


Phantom

by KaysKeys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Are songfics still a thing, Claude has a hard time, Coping, Dreams, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, I had a smutty ending that I might post separately, Mentioned Sothis (Fire Emblem), Oops we upped to M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Pre-Time Skip, Sothis can be sweet sometimes, but not really, claude is a ride or die, no beta we die like Glenn, rated t for sads and feels and talks of war and injuries, sad boys, song-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaysKeys/pseuds/KaysKeys
Summary: "And I dream of slow dancing with your ghost,Feel your touch--wake upand I'm all alone"Claude dreams of Byleth often since the fall of Garreg Mach. But with the help of some divine intervention, Claude gets more than just dreams of memories.ORClaude never stopped believing in Byleth and Sothis respects that
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 143





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helllllo!
> 
> Back to the writing game everyone. At least this epidemic is good for something? I've been laid off from all three of my jobs and have been writing to get out some of the anxieties. I hope everyone is staying safe and taking social distancing seriously. 
> 
> I'm in the middle of the slowest burn I've ever written for any ship ever. 
> 
> But that being said, when I run into blocks there, I find myself letting off some steam with side projects. 
> 
> It's not written in the usual style of mine; as in it is supposed to feel kind of fragmented? I hope it makes sense as you read on.
> 
> This fic is based off the song "Phantom" by the band Nightly.

The first time Claude has the dream is almost a year after she disappears.

Of course, he’s  dreamt about her almost every night since the fall of Garreg Mach, but this dream is different.

Usually, he sees glimpses of her in his dreams; like she is an ethereal spirit just out of his reach. Sometimes her hair is that seafoam green he grew to love when she cut open the sky and other times it that dark blue that left such an impression on him when they first met. But he would see her rounding the corner into the dining hall or closing the doors into the greenhouse during the colder evenings to check on the foliage. He would hear a whistle on the wind of her laughter as he saw her sitting with her feet dangling off the dock, fishing line was thrown lazily in front of her, listening to an extravagant story from Alois. Ever patient, never trying to cut him off or run away like other people. Just content to sit and listen to an "old friend"--as Jeralt described him.

If he was lucky, he replayed memories from the year she spent teaching him and his fellow Deer. Memories that imprinted on him so vividly.

The first time he saw her smile that radiant smile after Flayn was rescued. The confident smirk as the Ashen Demon stood, hair tied up in a messy bundle, sweat dripping down her neck, a wooden sword tip angled under Felix’s chin as she waited for him to yield. The laughter as he pulled her onto the floor to dance at the ball and the hint of redness on her cheeks as she focused diligently on the moves, apologizing profusely when she took a misstep and stumbled against him.

But they weren't all pleasant memories.

The pained understanding in her eyes as she comforted Ignatz after making his first kill in Zanado. The shaking desperation in her swings as she defended Marianne from their first encounter with the Death Knight. The deafening wail of agony as she held her deceased father in her lap. The deathly silence that fell on the earth around them as she was swallowed into the void.

But this is not one of those nights; not any of those dreams.

He knows it the moment his eyes open into the large empty room. It reminds him of the ballroom and celebration hall at the monastery. High ceilings, intricate paneling of the stained glass windows that were casting a surprisingly bright glow from the moonlight onto the bare marble floor. This room feels older, Claude decides. It echoes an ancient aura that he can't fully comprehend. As though he were suddenly in a building long lost to history.

He was trying to tell the stories painted on the stained glass above him when his head settled ahead and he saw her staring back at him, head cocked to the side just a little.

He cursed his own mind for its shameful way of remembering her. Not an ounce of justice done to her in his mind because the former professor that stood in front of him was radiant in the dim moonlight. So detailed and vivid.

So  _ alive _ .

To his surprise, his words were caught in his throat. As though there was a bind choking his words.

"Is that really you?" he wanted to ask. "Can you tell me where you are?"

But the questions died before making their way out. A weird, omnipresent understanding of how precious this moment was--he couldn't throw it away on useless questions like that.

The click of her heels against the marbled floor pounded like a heartbeat as she closed the gap. She looked exactly as she had the during the battle for Garreg Mach, in that ever distracting war outfit of hers he grew to appreciate. 

He was almost speechless as she reached for his hand, taking it with an uncharacteristic, but painfully adorable wink, before lightly tugging him further onto the floor.

Her touch felt distant, as though she were holding him through a veil of water.

But he _felt_ her . She was here with him right now.

It took a second for him to catch on at the familiarity of the situation and he couldn't help the small genuine laugh that bubbled over as their roles from the ball were reversed. Not one to stay missing a beat, Claude swept her into the proper position and started to move to an unheard melody. She smiled as she let him lead them through the routine, her fingers absentmindedly tracing faraway patterns on his arm

He wanted to speak, but just like before, his words didn't make their way out. As though some force was helping him make the most of this moment. So he ignored his burning curiosity to probe. Avoided bringing up her disappearance. Her location. The status of the war. And instead, let his own defenses down to hold her close against him in this dance.

"I wish you were here." The words left his mouth and he almost felt embarrassed by the ease at which they came.  _ Of course, _ the bind lifted for that little confession.

He imagined a little sprite giggling evilly above them as she puppeteered them along the floor.

"Me too." His eyes stung at her voice as it reverberated through his bones. She was here, still through a veil of water, and it made his heart sink.

They continued to dance in content silence around the moonlit ballroom. Claude was trying to memorize every inch of her.

"Do you remember the night of the Ball?" She asked so suddenly that he slightly misstepped at her voice.

Did he remember? More like how could he possibly forget?

After all, that night he had come so close--dangerously close--to revealing his secrets to his most trusted friend in Fodlan. He had almost thrown all the time spent preparing for this opportunity out the window for  _ her _ . A whim that she just might feel the same way as he did and might share a similar dream if he could only ask. He hated keeping things from her. Who he was, why he was really there at the Officer's Academy, how he felt about her. But in the grand scheme of things, he had only known her for a few months. What if he was reading the situation all wrong? 

Not that she ever pressed him beyond his comfort level, she seemed keen on respecting his space. Something he couldn't say the same of himself. He was constantly trying to unfold her mysteries and understand the secrets that she didn’t even know herself.

So instead of being completely honest with her, he let her in on some of his ambitions. He was still vague, but it was more than he ever expected to speak of until long after his days at the Officers Academy.

"Of course I do." He replied simply whilst spinning her, relishing in the echo of her laugh. How long has it been since he heard that laugh? Maybe since the night of the ball itself, before everything went to shit.

"I think about it often." She said, making his heart swell.

So do I, he wanted to tell her. But the imp that controlled what came out of his mouth refused to let them out. 

_ Patience _ . He could almost hear the imp whisper to him, similar to how his mother would coo to him when he was so eager to put his silver tongue to use. She was always reeling him in, teaching him how to assess and strategize the perfect plan. Plans that required contingencies upon contingencies to come to fruition.

"That was one of the happiest nights of my life. Thank you for sharing it with me." She squeezed him tightly with her faraway grip that he eagerly returned, though he immediately felt a warning within him. That same, omnipresent understanding from the marionette above them.

He had to be careful reaching for her like that, or this glass will shatter.

"It's a beautiful memory." Claude agreed, not quite willing to throw his heart fully on the table and detail how important that night was for him. How important  _ she  _ was to him.

Even in such a precious moment like this, Claude’s habit to hold his plans close to his chest won out the fight of his heart.

Suddenly, Byleth stopped her steps, holding his arms tightly, looking down away from him. "Teach...?" 

She looked up at him, eyes misted and fingers shaking as they gripped him so tightly that she almost didn’t feel far away anymore.

"I'm so sorry I wasn’t there." Though the tears never fell, the emotion in her voice nearly took him out like Flayn's Cutting Gale to the abdomen. “You had to finish that fight without me. You’ve all had to fight without me. I should’ve been there.” The room around them rumbled a little at her wails, reminding him of the minor earthquakes that happened throughout the outskirts of Almyran capital

He shushed her, reaching for her but pausing from that same unseen warning. 

He couldn't initiate physical touch. He knew that. But the walls around them were rumbling harder, the glass panes above them rattling so loudly like a hailstorm.

The sadness in the depth of her eyes in front of him burned every inch of his skin.

"It's okay. I know you're out there. I'm going to find you." He whispered, unwilling to trust his voice any louder. Not that she would ever tease him if his voice cracked during such a passionate exchange. But he was trying to be strong for her, just as she had always been for him.

The death grip on his arms was fading fast and his own desperation kicked in. "I promise." His voice was deafened in the wake of whatever spell was collapsing around them.

He blinked.

His hand was outstretched above him, the room changing in that smallest of a second to the familiar cream-colored ceiling of his bedroom. He bolted upright, feeling his shirt sticking to his back from the sweat he was drenched in. 

It didn't matter right now. Nothing mattered right now.

He had moved so fast it made his world spin as he looked around in a frantic haze for any sign of her. She was with him just now, he knew it. His arms were still tingling from where her nails had been digging in for support. Echoes of her laughter and cries were pounding so loudly in his ears.

He crawled out of the bed and staggered through the dizzying world around him. He hadn’t felt so terribly tossed around since Lysithea practiced her early warp spells on him. He ignored his nausea while he gracelessly pushed papers his desk off with little regard until he found a calendar from his days at Garreg Mach. He hadn’t been one for the sentimental memories so much as the hours he scoured over it night after night, writing as much as he could about every single day he remembered during his time there.

What he learned of his allies. What secrets evaded him. What events lead up to an all-out war. Many notable events and missions scribbled all over it in his familiar chicken scratch. Flayn’s disappearance, Sylvain striking down the beast that his brother became to reclaim the house relic that he wanted nothing to do with, fighting off a garbage would-be suitor for Ingrid on Dorothea’s behalf. As much as he could remember about every little thing in the hopes that it could be used to his benefit.

He glanced at his current moon calendar at his desk and felt as his body fold as though he were punched. He matched the dates between the two, his vision blackening in and out of focus. He barely had a moment from the initial lurch of his stomach to turn his head away from his cluttered desk.

His mind replayed Byleth over and over again as he leaned against the wall and emptied the contents of his stomach into the wastebasket. The violence of the heaves caused tears to fall freely down his cheeks--or at least, that's what he told himself as he sunk down the wall and collapsed on the floor, sobbing loudly.

Tonight Claude danced with Byleth.

Just as he had exactly one year prior.


	2. Year 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 2

The next year moves just as painfully as the first without Byleth.

Claude’s grandfather starts to get sick more often and so he sends Claude to the round table discussions so frequently that he's become a regular figurehead. Claude hadn't quite been ready to start speaking on behalf of the Alliance the way it was now expected him. He thought he had time to gain trust and standing within the Alliance. Thought he had time to charm his way into learning the bloodied history of Fodlan at the expense of any and all outsiders. He thought he had time before he was calling the shots in a continental war.

Time.

He thought his grandfather had time.

He had let it all on the table one night when the shakes got particularly unruly, apologizing for his horrendous treatment of Claude and his heritage in the past. Much to Claude’s own surprise, he accepted the apology honestly and without reservation. He listened eagerly to stories of his mother in her youth; of her feisty brilliance and tactical genius when assessing situations both on and off the diplomatic scene. He listened to Claude’s stories of his year at Garreg Mach, laughing through the coughs due to his flair for the dramatics. He even listened with quiet understanding as Claude talked of Byleth and what she meant to him. What he hoped she'd be able to do with him. What world he wanted her to see. Even the dream where they danced together.

Claude’s grandfather sobbed quietly, content in the kindness he was being showered in during his final moments. When his eyes got heavy, Claude placed his hand on his and smiled--telling him to rest and that he'd be there when he woke up with a hot cup of coffee and a status report from their scouts.

His grandfather slips away peacefully and does not wake again.

\--

After the announcement of his passing, the round table unceremoniously announces the rise of Duke Claude von Riegan to their territories and immediately begin to bring stacks of paperwork to him twice daily. He does his best to fill his grandfather’s shoes, a far greater feat than he was ready for.

A week later, Claude is handed the legendary Failnaught, a massive bow that shudders to life under his touch. It feels like life and death all at once, and its power in his hand does not go unnoticed. It feels like a bow capable of carrying him through his ambitions.

He tries to gently shove the longing for the sword that could cut a mountain in half and the vessel who wields it into the back of his mind.

\--

One week after that, Claude receives a letter, sealed with a familiar red wax insignia of the Black Eagles.

He doesn't read the letter very closely, just quick enough to make sure she's not declaring full-blown war with the Alliance. He knows it's coming, but he knows they need more time.

Luckily, it is none of that. Yet.

In her brief communication, Edelgard expressed her sympathies for the passing of Claude’s grandfather, citing her own sadness in losing those close to her. Claude rolls his eyes she speaks, vaguely, of her ambitions and their similarity to his own. 

Peace. Equality. Safety.

But their means of going about it are so polar from each other he's disgusted. For a moment he finds himself wishing that during their school days she would have reached for him. Or Dimitri. Whatever battle she is so clearly fighting, perhaps there could have been another way.

Or at least a way that gave them answers to questions they'll never have.

In her closing sentence, she says that whenever Claude is ready to spare any bloodshed and join her ranks, he need only say the word. He scoffs ripping up the letter and tossing it in the fireplace, watching it burn.

He watches as the flame surrounds and overtakes her signature until it is nothing more than ash and memory.

\--

He is always absentmindedly aware of the date approaching through a particularly rainy season. He tries not to raise his expectations, he knows it is a shot in the dark that lightning would strike twice. But nonetheless, the day of the anniversary of the ball, Claude is jittery. He signs mounds of paperwork and listens to double the requests from lords just to keep the day moving. He even spars with Holst in the attempt to tire himself out, though all it really does is cover him with some new bruises.

He retires as early as possible without suspicion but stares in the darkness at his ceiling for some time before sighing is resignation. Crawling out of bed to work at his desk with new battalion strategies and rationing plans busies him for some time.

He’s not sure when he dozes off but in a blink, he’s no longer looking at yellowed parchment, but rather the dimly lit classroom of the Golden Deer.

_ Wait _ , he thinks with sadness as he takes in the painfully familiar room. He knew it was irresponsible to get his hopes up the way he did that he’d be back in that ballroom with her. 

Despite the flow of disappointment, the sight of his former classroom isn’t necessarily an unwelcome sight. After all, he spent almost every day for almost a year in this room cramming as much information as possible into his brain. And, along the way, made such close bonds with people he never expected to.

He walked and let his fingers drag over one of the desks in the back, feeling the familiar grooves in the wood, swearing he could hear the distant echoes of laughter and conversation that filled the room.

“You’re late.” The voice cut through the echoes sharply and Claude flinched, hand reaching to his side for a moment before relaxing at the recognition. Standing at the head of the room behind the large desk, she stood with her arms crossed. The corners of her lips were tugged up and Claude noticed immediately how different this dream was. For starters, he noticed she was wearing the uniform she frequently wore during lectures. Seteth had given her one too many headaches early on about her “suggestive” attire and presented her with this refined option instead. 

Of course, Seteth failed to account for any student  _ ever _ having a teacher kink. If anything, it caused even more attention to be brought to Byleth’s many, uh, assets. 

“Apologies, Teach.” He winked, unable to stop his wide smile. “Gotta say, this is bringing back quite a lot of dreams from the Officer’s Academy.” 

Her head tilted into her fist as she thought for a long moment. “Was I frequent visitor in your dreams then?” Claude’s face felt hot at the question and although he knew she was teasing him, it still left him a little flustered at just how often she did visit him at night.

“Uh, ya know, sometimes.” He stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I moreso meant the part about me being late to class or something.” He tried to explain but he could still see the wheels turning in her eyes. 

“Mhm.” She hummed, cocking her hips to the side a little further. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for having a teacher-student fantasy.” The calmness in her voice was betraying the wild glint in her eyes at making him so flustered. He stuttered for just a moment, kind of wishing that the trickster imp above them would allow him to restart this whole exchange.

Alas, they did not grant him that.

“Guess there’s just a lot you don’t know about me, Teach.” He recovered and, seeing that she flustered him quite enough, she dropped the stern facade and rounded the large desk to walk down the aisle towards him. 

“I suppose so.” She mused with a genuine smile. “It’s good to see you, Claude.”

Just as it had a year prior, his heart seemed to leap into his throat at her words. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you.” He shook his head, just letting the words come out. Throughout his detailed overthinking of the last time he saw her, he came to terms with the fact that the opportunity to see her was a gift; one that he needed to be calmer about. When their emotions became unstable, the spell collapsed. And it was most certainly a spell of some kind, Claude decided. Maybe not any magic he knew or could ever comprehend, but his side effects during and after were too similar to call it something else. 

So he swore, should he get the opportunity again, he wouldn’t squash it again.

He looked away from her for a moment to look back over the classroom. It was dark, illuminated by the flickering of the fire in the hearth. When he looked back to her, not trusting her to not disappear into the air, he was shocked to see her sitting looking at a chess board on the desk he had touched when he first arrived. 

He smiled as he took his seat across her. "Just like old times." he mused as she carefully moved her first pawn. 

"I never had a favorite day of the week before I met you." He couldn't help but chuckle as he studied the board closely, taking his turn in about the same time. He forgets when it started exactly, but early on in the year Byleth had invited Claude for tea in the garden. It was raining something dreadful so they relocated to her bedroom, where Claude was immediately distracted with the chess set sticking out from the bottom of her bed. 

They played once, almost as a joke, but it became so intense that the two started to meet more often and eventually were playing weekly on Wednesdays as a means to stay sharp and close. 

Just like during their weekly games, Byleth set a punishing pace. The game itself requires contingencies--the same lesson his mom drilled into him. But at this speed, it allowed him to focus and react even faster than he usually would. It combines his most fine tuned skill--tactical prowess--and his weakest--split second decisions.

"My father bought the set for my 11th birthday." Byleth explained as she captured one of his pawns in her conquest. He hummed as he calculated his move, almost hearing the ticking of a clock in his mind in between each turn. "Said that he always wished he'd been more analytic in his youth. Even if I didn't become a mercenary, he wanted me to be able to see things from a tactical point of view. He wanted me to be ready for anything." Her lips pressed into a hard line and Claude knew that there was something else about Jeralt dancing in her mind. Perhaps something made a little more sense about him now in hindsight to her.

"Was he so aggressive with his teachings as you are?" Claude groaned when Byleth made her move before he even fully pulled his hand back. 

"No, not at all." She laughed as she adjusted her headband. "He was a lot worse." Claude couldn't help but laugh with her. To his surprise, her pace slowed dramatically and a frown painted her face while they played. He didn't push, not wanting to teeter her emotions either way. She paused for a moment with her hand on a rook. 

"I'm sorry about your grandfather." The apology wasn't needed, obviously, but Claude fumbled and knocked down his bishop in response when he flinched. He had  _ not _ been expecting that. He took a deep breath through his nose to keep himself calm.

"I guess you heard the news." His voice felt strained, he knew that. But he stayed focus on their dance over the chessboard instead of losing his composure when he looked into her eyes.

" _ Heard _ doesn't seem like the right word." She let out a small laugh at the statement. "I don't really hear much where I am. I just, sort of, know?" She forced out the sentence and it was clear she was trying to work this just as much as he was. 

To his surprise, there was no bind on his words when he responded. 

"And where do you think you are, exactly?" He was relieved when the room didn't start to collapse around them at the probing.

Her nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about it for a long moment. "I'm not sure." She admitted after a moment with a heavy sigh. "I feel like I'm asleep". 

"I guess there are worse things." He tried not to think of her falling into the canyon that day and the scream that was deafening on the crowded battlefield. He tried not to think about the way Hilda sobbed against him as she shook from the belief that their professor was most certainly dead. "We never found your body." He pointed out, which actually seemed to ease some of her sudden distress. "And I don't care how long it's been, Teach, there's a lot of moving parts ready for you when you get back." He was trying to convey his confidence, something that wasn't infallible. But as confusing and disheartening everything in this war was, the one thing he always felt sure of was Byleth's return. 

No matter how sad it made him look. 

"I think that's why it was so easy to pick the Golden Deer. To pick you." she said while attacking his pieces with a new fervor. His ears felt hot at her words. 

"Why's that?" he asked through a tight throat. Though this had nothing to do with a trickster imp. 

"We're kindred spirits. Keeping our intentions and truths guarded so as not to worry the people we care about.” A pause. “Or give an edge to those who would see us fail." She explained, watching as he swiped a knight of hers, beelining towards her king. "You're very much a mercenary deep down Claude." She noted with an almost sad smile. 

"Coming from you that's quite the compliment." his heart was racing as he mapped out his next steps to get her king, planning for which piece she would move. 

"I mean it. It's why we play this game so often. You understand just as I do how pieces are sacrificed in every game of chess." He looked up at her, wide eyes boring into his. "To an observer, they just assume someone outdid the other in a back and forth shift of power. Not you though. You know exactly why one piece was allowed to take another. It’s a difficult skill to hone.”

Claude had a  _ lot _ of questions at her observation. It resonated deeply with him and he knew that but it felt like he needed time to absorb the information properly. She was smiling wickedly and when he looked down, he found himself in checkmate at the mercy of the queen and a pawn. 

He sat back, letting out a sigh of disbelief as he replayed all of the steps leading up to it and found the exact moment he stopped planning three steps ahead. Distracted by Byleth, she applied pressure to orchestrate his moves right where she wanted him. 

"I still have a lot to learn." He toppled his king and let his hand fall against his leg with a weighted slap. 

"I know you're leading far sooner than you expected." She said, leaning over the pieces to place her hand on his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact, cherishing the feel of her--even if it did feel distant. "But please don't lose sight of the pawns. Every action you make must have as many scenarios played out as you can manage. Every single one. I'm not there to help." How easily she seemed to read his feelings and fears. As though she had been training for him her entire life. “You have to lead the way  _ you  _ know how to. It isn’t an insult to his memory to lead with your strengths. You’re a masterful tactician, Claude. Use that. And never stop making plans.” She pleaded with him, pulling his emotions from within him.

"I will, I promise." The conviction in his voice surprised them both. He had been trying to be his grandfather for too long and that inaction was going to cause casualties if he didn’t nip it now. She pulled back and he was already aching for her again. She turned in her chair and leaned on the desk, staring at the front of the classroom. 

"It's so different from this side." He smiled at the sudden lightness in her voice, the tension of their conversation evaporating above them. He walked around the table and sat in the chair next to her, leaning his head against his hand. She was staring intently at the front of the room but he could see the sudden exhaustion on her face and it made him realize how tired his own eyes were. “Hey Claude?” She asked quietly as she laid her head down to rest on her folded arms. 

“Hmm?” He asked, doing everything he could to memorize even more of her.

“If I wasn’t your professor…” She trailed off for a moment and Claude swore she could hear the thudding of his heart against his chest. “I mean, if I was a student here--do you think we would’ve still been friends?” Her voice sounded so much smaller and starkly vulnerable than he was used to hearing from her. He scooted a little closer to her and he noted how it felt like he was moving in a thick syrup.

“Absolutely.” Of that he was certain. Her eyes fluttered close and her breathing evened out.

“If I wasn’t some giant mystery...if I couldn’t wield the Sword of the Creator...” Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought hard about her words. “If I was just a mercenary...it might’ve taken a lot longer for us to be friends.” Claude thought about her words for a long moment--a seemingly endless moment in the veil they were under.

“You’re probably right. We wouldn’t have been close that quickly.” She hummed and nodded without judgment or resentment at his words. “But even if it took a little longer, I would’ve found you eventually.” He learned forward some more, placing his hand on her arm and pressing his lips against her exposed temple. He can feel the muscles move as she smiles at the contact. He pulls back just enough to whisper as the room begins to fade away.

”I will always find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!! Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> I appreciate all the feedback from the first chapter and hope that you are enjoying the style of this story. It's been a lot of fun to write. 
> 
> Any and all feedback on this one is so appreciated. It really helps stoke the fire that Claude/Byleth fills me with.
> 
> Hoping to update at the end of the weekend :)


	3. Year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 3

The first thing Claude does when he wakes is write a letter. He crawls under his nightstand and pushes up into the false bottom to pull out one of his  _ many  _ hidden satchels. He pulls out a piece of the heavy parchment and a wax sealer and lays them out on his desk. His note is painfully short-- now is not the time for heartfelt sentiments passed over the borders. In an elegant script, far nicer than his usual chicken scratch, Claude scribes his message for his mother.

_ Once more, the night sky and its beauty expands over the water. _

He stands and looks at the reflection looking back at him in the mirror, eyebrows lifting in surprise. He hadn’t seen the fiery resolve in those emerald eyes in so long that it caught him off guard. 

He couldn’t help but ask himself how he ever lost sight of them.

How long had it been since Claude sat atop the mountain ranges behind the palace, gazing up at the sky and feeling the magnitude of his dreams shrink in comparison to the vast wonder above?

How long had it been since Claude was just a kid?

He picked up a dagger from the desk and watched his reflection as the blade danced over his skin. The blade was sharp and left a buzzing trail behind. There was no fear in those eyes any longer, no more child-like doubts that had fogged his gaze since the day Byleth fell into the abyss. Claude lifted his tight braid away from his face and pressed the blade against the root. 

Claude wasn’t a student anymore. He wasn’t a  _ child _ anymore. Long behind him were the days of wallowing at his circumstances alone in his room. He was no longer the frail child hiding in the alleys of the palace town markets, scrubbing the dirt off his skin that the older kids painted him with to make him darker--to make him  _ normal _ . No more lessons with his parents in politics, religion, and geography, while his mother worked to hone his Fodlanese.

Claude wasn’t helpless anymore. Wasn’t weak anymore. 

And with a quick jerk of his wrist, his braid fell onto the letter with a gentle sound and Claude said goodbye to the helpless boy with too big ambitions.

Because now--he decides as he stares into the reflection in front of him--Claude finally believes that he can make them happen

He folds the braid in the paper, melting wax to seal it shut. He presses the seal, a skyward wyvern, and blows on it to cool, thinking for a long moment of everything he would tell his parents if they were with him right now. 

Would they ask him to set his dreams aside and come home, where it might be safer? Would they be disappointed that his work wasn’t finished?

Would they be proud of the man they raised?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Claude rehides his satchel and dresses in a large overcoat--knowing that the most effective of disguises are the most simple. He uses the roofs and landings of the Riegan capital building to slip past his guards and any wandering eyes. When he lands with a graceful thud, Claude makes a note to rework the security patrols when he gets back. 

He pulls up the collar on the coat to protect from the biting air and walks into the early morning crowd of his capital city.

\--

“Spare change?” A man leaning against a tavern wall asks Claude as he passes. Claude hums as he passes the red-eyed man to cut through the alley. “Crazy times, hm?” He adds, following a few steps behind Claude out of the eyes of the commuters.

“Aren’t they always? The only difference now is that everyone can see it.” Claude responds over his shoulder, the sounds of the bustling streets dissipating to a hum as he rounded a corner, further into the alleyways. “Do you have plans to rob me?” Claude asks conversationally, his hands pulling a dagger to twirl in his hand as the steps behind him struggle to keep pace. 

“Of course not.” The man laughs. “I may be a lot of things, your Highness, but I am not the type to seek a fight I know I can’t win.” Claude smirked, slowing down so the steps could catch up. He turns and cocks his hip to the side. 

“Smart man; though I’m afraid you’ve got the honorifics all wrong. ‘Your Highness’ has no place for a Duke.” The man’s red eyes had a twinkle in them as Claude spoke, as though he found the whole affair terribly amusing.

“True. But my fealty is to his royal highness only.” He pointed out with a stretch. “So forgive me for not blowing smoke up a Duke’s ass.” At this, both of them let out a hearty laugh, Claude choosing to lean against a shed, arms crossed. 

_ “You feel like more trouble than you’re worth, Ahmet.”  _ Claude slips easily into Almyran, the language feeling forgein on his tongue. How long had it been since he spoke out loud in his native language; let alone to an actual person and not in frustrated prayer to the trickster gods above?

_ “Your father begs to differ, your Highness.”  _ Feeling his mother tongue on his lips, Ahmet clenches his fist across his chest in a single armed bow--one that Claude can’t resist rolling his eyes at. Duty and tradition does such strange things to people.  _ “Now are you here to tease me or to give a poor, begging man some change?”  _ Ahmet batted his long eyelashes at Claude, forcing him to realize that for a ‘homeless’ man, Ahmet was always fresh and clean. His red eyes gave him away in Fodlan, and as such people would hardly give him a second glance to notice a lack of grime.

Claude takes out the letter from his pocket and holds it out to him.  _ “A letter,”  _ Ahmet notes with surprise.  _ “Four years in the shadows of your steady rise to Fodlan’s peak and I’ve never known you to risk sending a letter home.” _

Claude shrugged, eyeing the wyvern seal on the wax for a moment.  _ “The circumstances have changed. When my mother hears the news of her father’s passing, she’ll move forward as planned.”  _ Ahmet stepped forward and took the letter with a small bow.

_ “I see.”  _ He slipped the letter in a pocket on the inside of his long coat and gave Claude a small smile.  _ “May the sun rise on our new dawn.”  _ The familiar phrase was a popular saying in Almyran culture; one that Claude stuck to for obvious reasons. It was a phrase used between servants of the royal family most often, and considering how often Claude found himself among them, it became his mantra.

Claude gave him a one-armed bow and left Ahmet behind with a small two-finger salute as he disappeared back into the crowded streets. 

\--

About a month later, Claude found himself staring down a field to a line of targets on the training grounds outside of the city.

“So when he found me painting, he pointed out how steady my hands were and how invaluable that would be as an archer.” Ignatz explained as he fired another arrow down the strip towards the target. “I was already nervous about knowing I’d be enrolled in the Academy in two years, so a bow seemed like a less...personal option for becoming a knight.” 

“Well, it definitely works out. I don’t know any sniper with as steady an aim as you, Ignatz.” Claude clasped a hand on his shoulder, purposely making Ignatz twitch and almost release the arrow prematurely.

“Well what about you, Claude? Why did you pick up the bow?” Ignatz countered, eager to get the attention off of himself. Claude felt his lips tug downwards in a frown at the question; his mind already pulling the calculated answer from the depths of his many rehearsed scripts. But for the first time in a long time since his arrival in Fodlan, Claude hesitated to spew the lie. This wasn’t a mastered political mind attempting mental gymnastics to learn weaknesses and destroy him--it was  _ Ignatz _ . His friend.

“My mom taught me.” Came his soft reply--and it felt as though the lead was removed from his shoulders as he did. “Bows are a staple in the Alliance and she’s an expert marksman--so it made sense.” He explained with a shrug. 

“Lady Tiana is a bow knight, right?” Ignatz asked while choosing to ignore the way Claude’s entire body stiffens at his mother’s name. 

“Yep. I’m surprised you know that, Ig. Uncle Godfrey did a hell of a job keeping talks about his ‘corrupted baby sister’ to a minimum.” Claude felt his teeth mash at the mention of Godfrey and did what he could to keep his breathing steady.

“My parents talked about her a lot growing up. They were always concerned about the direction Lord Godfrey was planning to take the Alliance. Declaring war with Almyra would’ve caused a lot of damage to their merchant business.” Claude was sure that if Ignatz had been watching him, he would’ve had something to say about the way the tips of his ears were burning red with a bubbling rage. 

“Godfrey, rest his soul, was more committed to the... older beliefs of Fodlan.” Claude closes his eyes for just a moment and sees the flash of green eyes wide with terror and  _ recognition _ and a jeweled blade pressed to Godfrey’s throat. “Anyone who was an outsider was a threat. It was one of the reasons my mother became so estranged from the rest of the Riegan house.” As he spoke Claude felt his eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall. “So when she met my father, an outsider in his own right, she couldn’t stand the things Godfrey said about him and denounced her title completely.”

“I suppose it's fortunate that the Riegan twins both inherited the Crest, then? She was able to give up her position without compromising the house.” Claude realized then that not only had Ignatz grown as a marksman, but as an orator. No more stuttering or second-guessing. He was finally speaking his mind, even if it was still a little unnatural for him to do freely.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Claude notched an arrow on Failnaught and aimed down the sight, grateful for a distraction from his own thoughts at Ignatz’ inquiry. “It appears so. And lucky for the house, my parents didn’t waste any time having me--a crested heir.” The bitter taste in his mouth made him think of Sylvain and the heart-to-hearts the two shared over glasses of smuggled bourbon. With his emotions heightened, Claude felt his crest activate and the sigil blinding on his hand as he released a curved shot down the field, the impact of the glowing red arrow splitting the target into pieces.

“Failnaught is just as terrifying as the Sword of the Creator, wouldn’t you say?” Ignatz mused on its beauty as he drew his own bowstring back and aimed down a target at the end of the field.

“They’re all pretty freaky, in my opinion.” Claude shrugs, watching as Ignatz lets fly an arrow with an almost casual air about it. Despite the apparent ease, it lands bullseye with precision accuracy and Claude lets out a long whistle. “Now  _ that _ is what an enemy finds terrifying. Ignatz with his Deadeye” He lands a palm on Ignatz’ shoulder, who is immediately bright red and looking down at his feet.

“Don’t tease, Claude. I’m hardly as good a shot as you are.” Claude was already shaking his head as he spoke. He liked the new Ignatz and refused to let him stumble back into his old ways.

“Ignatz, your skill has amplified tenfold since the Academy. You should feel very proud of that. I know your merchants are thankful for it.” His reassuring words are loud enough that Raphael hears them as he slows from his most recent sprint, sweat beads dripping off his bareback.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him!” Raphael is just as loud and optimistic as always, a toothy grin as blinding as the sun. Claude can’t help but return the energy. Raphael had snuck upon him as a friend during their schooldays. To be honest, Claude had trouble believing that someone could be so sure of themselves and their interests at such a young age without an agenda. But Raphael knew exactly the kind of person he was; a kind big brother with a love for food and for bettering himself. 

“It’s your size the bandits are afraid of, Raph.” Ignatz tries to explain, waving his hands in hopes of waving off their praise.

“Nah, Lorenz has been saying that bandit attacks on merchants have dissipated in the territory exponentially since you two took over the routes.” Claude points out, holding his bow over his shoulder casually as they walk back towards some of his soldiers nearby. “Something about the eagle-eyed sniper and the bull he sics on their enemies.” Raph let out a loud whoop at the compliment and Claude laughed at the redness on Ignatz’ face. 

Before he could protest even more, one of Claude’s soldier’s approaches, handing him a rolled piece of parchment. Claude skims it for a moment, recognizing the handwriting immediately and turns to them with an angled smirk.

“What do you guys say about postponing your return home for a couple of days? I could use a few trusted men.” Claude asks, twirling the message in front of them. “And I’ll reimburse you handsomely for your time. Duke funds and all that.” He sweetens the deal with a wink, which causes Raphael to cross his tanned arms over his chest. 

“We don’t want to hear any of that.” Furrowed eyebrows and a sharp frown down at Claude, almost making him nervous. “You’re our friend, Claude! Of course we’ll help with whatever you need.” His big smile is back just as fast as he nods matter-of-factly.

“He’s right Claude. Stop trying to pay us to hang out with you.” Ignatz ' rare poke at his expense was met with a loud laugh from Raphael as they turned and followed the soldier’s back towards the city. Raphael was going off about some restaurant near the capitol building that Ignatz promised they could try as he scooped down to grab his shirt to towel himself off. Claude watched them walk away for a moment; still a little stunned.

For another moment, Claude sees the backs of his cousins as they run from him--the  _ freak _ . He feels that same small feeling in his chest, longing that they would turn back and reach out to him instead.

He blinks and the image is gone, replaced with one Claude had always hoped for. His friends, waiting for  _ him _ .

Raphael is waving his attention back to focus as Ignatz smiles and hooks his bow onto his back expertly.

“You good, Claude?” Raphael booms, head tilted innocently. Claude nods before jogging to catch up with them. 

He walks back to the city in stride with his friends.

\--

“This seems like a lot for a trip to Daphnel.” Ignatz notes for the third or so time on their march West. It’s true, Daphnel is only a two-day leisurely march on foot and yet they were leading a small caravan of carriages, each filled to the brim with supplies.

“Hm, maybe I overpacked a tad.” Claude agrees offhandedly as they marched through a small village. “But you know how these things go. Wouldn’t want to be underprepared.” As the caravan makes its way through the dusted streets of the cozy fishing village, several villagers approach with large duffles or crates, packing them into the carriages before slipping away just as fluidly. Ignatz watches in awe but decides not to bring it up again.

He also gives Claude a puzzled look when they pass the main routes to the Daphnel capital city, which earns him a signature wink.

It’s windy and the dead of night when they start up a pathetically made path up a cragged hill. The three of them had moved to point the caravan at Claude’s instructions a few meters back and both Ignatz and Raph could feel the slight change in the air. Raphael rolled his shoulders, tightening the straps on his gauntlets while Ignatz held his bow ready at his side.

Ignatz had gotten  _ fast _ \--Claude notices when the small sniper is suddenly standing in front of him, protecting him with his bow pulled taught, lips pulled in a small frown.

“That’s far enough.” Claude is again stunned at Ignatz when he speaks, a level of cool-headed ferocity that only comes from a confidence in your abilities. Claude looks ahead where three hooded figures are blocking the path before them. “State your business or I will fire.”

The tallest figure looks to the others for a moment before stepping towards them. Before his foot can find purchase on the ground, however, out of the ground where his foot would have landed, an arrow serves as a warning. 

“I said that’s far enough.” Ignatz’ voice is chilling as Raphael pounds in gauntlets together and crouches slightly, ready to go at the order. “I wouldn’t try that again unless you’d like me to paint a picture with you on the rocks.” That is too much for the figures before them as a loud whistle and clap surprises him. 

“That was the greatest thing you have ever said, Iggy.” At the familiar voice, Ignatz’ entire facade collapses, his bowstring going slack as though it burned him.

“Sylvain?” Ignatz almost stutters, the redness in his face matching the former student’s hair. 

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep you in check when all I had to do was ask Ignatz to put the fear of the Goddess into you?” Ingrid’s distinct disappointment made Claude laugh out loud.

“You didn’t tell them who you were meeting?” Felix asks, stepping forward and crossing his arms over his chest. He was clearly annoyed, but seeing Sylvain put in line always turned his lips up in a smirk.

“And miss out on this show?” Claude countered, almost gleeful when he earned a small chuckle from the swordsman.

Raphael, who had already somehow stripped his arms of his gauntlets, ran to them and huddled them all into an awkward group hug. “It’s sure nice to see you guys!” 

“There’s no way you’ve gotten even bigger.” Felix states with a glowing fire behind his eyes. “Spar with me.” Felix challenges, backing out of the hug and rocking back into a readied unarmed stance. Before anyone can argue, the two are brawling in the grass of the hill with unbridled intensity.

“Claude...this is so much more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Ingrid’s eyes are glistening with tears as she stares at the convoy, full of supplies amidst the war.

“Listen, the carriages have compartments underneath with weapons and materials. The wagons have rations and medicines. And there’s not a lot there, but pouches of modified seeds that  _ hopefully _ will thrive in the soil of your territory as well.” Claude explains with his arm around her in a small hug.

“The Empire would consider this an act of war.” Sylvain laughs, arms behind his head with that same facade Claude grew to respect during their time at the Academy. His jaw was tense as he said it. 

“And that’s why we keep them and the roundtable out of it.” Claude laughs with him. It’s then that the small entourage they were traveling with began to swap out with the Alliance soldiers. 

They look over when Felix curses loudly, face down in the grass with his arm twisted behind his back. Raphael helps him with a laugh and a too hard slap to his back.

“That reminds me.” Felix grumbles as he returns to them with a hard frown, the cogs in his mind already turning about how to best Raphael next time. Felix looks to the group taking hold of the supplies and whistles. “This is Heath.” He explains unceremoniously as a green and white-haired man jogs over to them. “His wyvern was killed by Cornelia.” They all frown at the mention of that horrendous woman. “I heard you were assembling a team of riders.” Claude smiles at Felix warmly, who looks away quickly with a huff. “It’s a thank you for what you’re doing for Ingrid.”

“Welcome to the team, Heath.” Claude offers his arm, which Heath immediately grabs in a close agreement. He’s cautious--he always is at new faces--but before he can start to prod the mystery man for information, a gentle hand pressed against his cheek. Claude is surprised when Ingrid pulls him down and presses her lips on him. 

“Thank you, Claude.” There is so much emotion in her whisper that a small part of him flutters at the contact. “I will be ready to pledge my service to the Alliance when it's time to reclaim the Kingdom.” Claude pulls her close, pressing his own lips to her forehead with a sigh of relief.

“I won’t let anything happen to your home, Ingrid.” Claude vows, ignoring the way his heart tugs when he says it. It’s dangerous to make promises like that, but he knows it in his gut to be true. 

When she pulls away, she busies herself with assisting riders to the caravan. Claude walks up Sylvain, who taps his fist when he offers. Claude pulls a small fold of papers from his jacket and presses it into Sylvain’s hands.

“It’s not much. But I have a list of witnesses, a map of frequented areas, and analysis from one of the best physicians I know.” Sylvain smiles, that soft smile that isn’t tainted with malice or up to guard his defenses. Claude will never forget the way Sylvain stood over Miklan’s destroyed body, with a glowing relic he never wanted pulsing in his grip. The image of a small boy crying for his family’s affection burns itself in his brain. It was the day Claude realized that Sylvain was as tactful a pretender as he was.

“I’m going to bring him home.” Sylvain vows, more to the universe than Claude specifically. 

“It’s a waste of time. He’s become the beast he always was. You’ve read the reports of the carnage.” Felix snaps with a furious glare to his redheaded friend. 

“He’s in survival mode. He needs help.” Claude can see that this is not the first time the two have had this argument and judging by the information in those reports, it certainly won’t be the last.

The two bicker for a little longer before all preparations are made to depart. It’s risky to stay convened like this for so long, lest word gets back to the Empire or the roundtable.

“You know, the Alliance broke off the Kingdom.” Claude muses aloud, drawing the attention of both his friends and the soldiers. “I’m all for putting us back together again. And we have the leaders to make that a reality. So stay sharp, stay alert, and stay  _ alive _ so that we can unify against the wicked Emperor and her destruction.” It’s not his regular spiel to the troops as it's shorter and more revealing of his ambitions than normal, but it has a sweeping effect on the soldiers looking at him. 

  
With a two-finger salute to his friends, Claude calls the order and begins the return to the capital. 

Raphael and Ignatz are more boisterous than normal on the way back, obviously, their morale and spirits lifted from seeing their former classmates. Claude takes part in the reminiscing and throws in his own stories into the mix. 

Claude is so caught up in the joking that he doesn’t notice the odd shadow overhead immediately.

“Claude!” Ignatz shouts suddenly and instinct propels him further, out of the shadow’s path. Using his hand to control his skid on the ground, Claude reaches for his bow before freezing at the depthless onyx orbs boring into his eyes. 

“Uh, Ig.” Claude says calmly when he sees Ignatz slowly pulling his bow off of his back from behind the animal. “Trust me on this and don’t put your hands on that bow. They make her nervous.” A loud, hot huff from the towering wyvern in front of him agrees.

“Her?” Comes Raphael’s confused reply.

“Hey sweetheart.” Claude coos gently, rising to his feet and reaching out his hand to rub against her muzzle. “How on earth did you find me?” He asks her, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. She purrs at the contact.

“You...have a wyvern, Claude?” Ignatz manages to get out, though it's clear that he is struggling with the events of the day.

“I do. Guys, this is Luna. I’ve raised her since she was in her egg.” In response, Luna lets out a sharp whine while rubbing against him aggressively, clearly upset that her scent has long been washed away. “But if she’s here, then that means…” He trails off and pulls away, looking around the path they’re on.

His eyes settle on the path far behind them to the hulking figure sauntering towards them. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and puts a hand on both of his Deer. “You guys are going to want to stand clear of this.” He offers apologetically before shoving them off the path.

That is all the signal the man needs, holding his fingers to his lips and letting out a loud whistle. Seemingly from nowhere, a large white mass dives from above and rushes towards them. Claude opens his arms, knowing it’ll be a useless defense when the hulking wyvern is suddenly crashing into him and holding him onto the dirt with her claws holding his arms a little too tightly. 

“Easy, Solis. It’s good to see you too.” Claude speaks through strangled gasps, the weight of her overwhelming. She leans down and nuzzles him just as aggressively as Luna.

“I tried to keep them calm, kiddo. But they caught one whiff of you and started losing their damn minds.” Nader’s booming voice filled Claude with an odd sense of comfort. It had been quite some time since they’d seen each other. But him being here meant that his letter got home safely. He whistles again and Solis clambers off of him, curling to lay down beside him, her tail flipping occasionally from the excitement. 

“You have  _ two _ wyverns?” Raphael asked incredulously, but with an air of childlike joy. 

“Raphael, Ignatz. This is my trusted retainer and an old family friend.” Claude offered weakly while dusting himself off. 

“I’m sure little Claude has told you all about me. The name is Nardel.” Claude was grateful he was standing behind his two friends because the outrageous look he shot Nader was lethal at the ridiculous name. “I see you’ve met Luna and Solis.” He nods his head and the two nod dumbly.

“Does...she have antlers?” Ignatz asked, eyeing the gorgeous rack of antlers on Luna. Claude laughed a little sadly. 

“She sure does. There’s a ton of variants and species of wyverns out there. But, people are greedy and selfish so they poach and hunt and treat them like wild savages.” Claude explains while gently rubbing her antlers. 

“And I’ve never seen a white wyvern before,” Raphael adds, staring intently at the squawking animal.

“She’s exceptionally rare. Thought to be extinct actually. Luna found her freshly hatched during one of our rides.”

While his friends carefully approach and pet the wyverns, who are relishing in the extra attention, Claude settles beside his towering godfather.

“So,  _ Nardel _ .” Claude scoffs as he says it, ignoring his beaming smile. “No issues on your journey?” Claude knows the route to be here is exhausting. He’d have to outskirt the entire Alliance to make it to the mountains of Daphnel territory, to make it look like that’s where he was coming from all along.

“Well the girls were a handful.” He laughs, gesturing to the two aggressively marking Ignatz and Raphael. “But, your mom set them straight before we left.” Claude felt his skin tingle at the mention of his mother. “She’s doing just fine. Your father is too.” Claude’s cheeks felt red at feeling so visible.

“ _ It’s good to see you Nader. This war isn’t going to be easy.”  _ Claude slips into Almyran, once again missing the taste of his language on his tongue. 

“ _ Well met, Khalid. You’ve done well so far.”  _

Claude smiles up at his friend and then back to his friends, who are at a loss of how to play with wyverns and not get their arms ripped off. The sight paints itself in his mind and he wishes Byleth were here; they would love her.

\--

Claude opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as the hot Fodlan sun was shining into them. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from it as he tried to understand where he was. It took a moment, but he recognized the plains outside Garreg Mach where they would hold training skirmishes or lessons. He heard grunts and clanks of metal nearby and looked up one of the hilled areas to see seafoam hair flowing in the breeze. His breath catches and he wishes he had Ignatz’ skill for capturing beauty, as the ethereal image of her silhouette against the endless sky was something he never wanted to forget.

In a second, he’s at her side, staring at her intensely. She looks the same, as she always does. Today she is wearing a snug pair of trousers and a sleeveless black knitted crop top. He recognized it, obviously, as his mind had frequently wandered to the image of her straddling him with a knife at his throat, breathing loud and sweating heavy as she defeated him-- _ again _ \--in a spar.

He almost feels bad for staring while he attempts to memorize every inch of her again, but he notices that she hasn’t even glanced at him. She is doe-eyed and focused ahead of her, her breath seeming to hitch in her throat at every inhale. He follows the gaze and finds himself stunned into silence as well. In front of them, surrounded by a large crowd of students and knights, a blue-haired Byleth and a rugged Jeralt had just finished up a Tempest Lance demonstration.

“This is...new.” Claude notes just how  _ vivid  _ tonight’s dream is. He feels the sun and the breeze and smells the grass and he’s sure that if he reached out to Byleth, she would just  _ be there. _

“I’d almost forgotten about this day.” Byleth’s voice is like honey to him and he lets out a sigh of relief and thanks to the tricker gods above who continue to grant him this gift. 

“I still don’t know how you even got Jeralt to teach our class in the first place.” Claude agrees with a laugh, watching as they take drinks from their canteens.

“He agrees to do anything for me when he’s that wasted.” Byleth says with a smirk. Claude laughs and looks to a shaded tree nearby on their vantage point on the hill. They settle in, their fingers almost touching on the grass, making his heart pound. 

“ _So, here’s the deal._ ” Jeralt’s voice is a melodic tone in the wind, it carries everywhere and practically commands authority, despite the calm demeanor. Byleth seems to relax beside him immediately and Claude can understand. “ _I know some of you bra--_ _ kids _ _have experience with adjuncts, but today is for understanding the practical functions and procedures._ ” For not being a teacher, Claude remembered feeling enamored with the way Jeralt spoke. The way he explained tactics just made things make sense. 

“ _Being an adjunct does not mean you are weak or are being benched._ ” Judging by the turns and whispers in the audience, it’s obvious why all the classes had been encouraged to attend this lecture. _“Being assigned an adjunct does not mean you are lacking skill or are babysitting a fellow soldier. Battalions, while effective, are not meant for every personality. I’ll use Fraldarius as an example since I sparred with him and know his name._ ” Real Byleth laughs beside Claude and leans against him--confirming his earlier belief at how real she felt. 

_“Felix is a fighter focused on precision, speed, and skill. It wouldn’t do any good to assign a batallion to him, as they’d likely never be able to keep up with his movements. But that does not mean that he wouldn’t benefit from an adjunct. Someone who understands and compliments his fighting style, maximizing efficiency. A two person strike force._ ” Jeralt explains, seemingly terribly informed and horrendously hungover. Jeralt grabs a lance and sword, tossing the latter at Dream Byleth who catches it easily. “ _You all are used to seeing my daughter as a commander and professor. She takes charge and guides you in the right direction. That being said, watch when she assumes the adjunct position; when it’s not her call._ ” Jeralt readies next to her and nods at a group of knights waiting for the signal. They rush and a beautifully orchestrated dance begins in the field. 

He remembered this day vividly of course, as it was the day that Claude realized that Byleth was more than just a mystery to unravel. She was a remarkable fighter and a  _ beautiful _ woman. He had been mesmerized with her on the battlefield before, but here without any distractions, he could see the way she moved with her whole spirit. The ebb and flow of an ocean, serving as a sword for Jeralt. The two rarely needed to share anything more than grunts or gestures to understand each other. 

The difference in her serving as a support capacity was striking. 

Watching it now from an even further vantage point, Claude was in awe at how versatile she was. There were several moves that Claude now knew for a  _ fact _ that Byleth would’ve made had she been in charge, but she didn’t even hesitate as her father directed her in more convoluted maneuvers. He’d send her past two enemies to focus on one before gesturing too far behind him, having her dodge and weave with no offensive to the soldiers in the way. Claude looked over to real Byleth, to his Byleth, and saw her eyes wide as she tracked the movements. He was enamored with the way she studied the father-daughter dance from an outside perspective that he missed the decisive finishing hit to one of Alois’ trainees.

All of the students erupted into applause and cheers once the spell was lifted and Claude found himself laughing at how terribly  _ young _ they all were here. He watched a blue haired Byleth smile just a little up at her father when he patted her on the head before she walked closer to the students to grab her canteen.

_“So I better not hear any more whining about adjuncts from this point forward,_ ” Jeralt concluded with a huff, barely even seeming to have broken a sweat. _“That’s the end of class or whatever. I want to run By through some training exercises but you’re more than welcome to head out.”_

Some of the nameless faces Claude recognized were the first to head out. Most of his colleagues stuck around, too interested in watching Byleth become a student. He didn’t miss the way Hubert was practically dragging a reluctant Edelgard away from the fray. He felt his blood boil particularly hot seeing the two of them. Claude was right from the get-go not to trust them and yet he still was surprised when the war came. He found himself annoyingly  _ hurt _ that she betrayed them all the way she had. If she had only reached out to them…

“I…” His attention immediately was back to his Byleth at his side, her cheeks tinted red and wetness in her eyes.

“It must be hard seeing him again.” Claude tries to offer, placing his arm around her to rub soothingly.

“Not that...seeing my father is a gift. It makes me feel so warm.” She admits, glancing up to him for just a moment.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asks, trying to follow her gaze to where her past self is standing, head tilted back as she chugs some water. Her hair is pulled up messily in a bun that Felix begrudgingly walked her through with stray pieces stuck to her neck from sweat. Her skin glistens against the setting sun’s rays and the smile and flush on her cheeks from exertion is practically blinding.

“You’re going to laugh at me.” She says wearily with a sigh. “I just...think I look kind of pretty there.” Her cheeks flushed even darker and Claude looked away from the past to stare into her eyes.

“Nah.” He offered lamely with a shrug, almost immediately regretting his choice when she visibly deflated. “Radiant. Ethereal. Divine. Something like that covers it a little better.”

“Claude--don’t tease.” She protested with a huff, freezing beneath the gentle touch of his lips to her forehead. 

“I’m not.” He whispers against her skin. She feels so real. They look over to where a younger Claude had jogged over to Byleth offering her a fist bump and a laugh at something from their demonstration. He noticed the way her lips were turned up into the smallest of smiles as she looked into his eyes. Claude remembered his slightly selfish reason for running over to talk to her that day, to block the gawking eyes raking over her toned body with himself. 

“ _Riegan_.” Claude flinches as though Byleth’s skin burnt him at the booming tenor of Jeralt’s voice across the field. He looks over to see his younger self, clearly just as jumpy as he was, turning and moving towards Jeralt. The sounds of the field seemed to fade away, allowing them to hear the men clearly. _“I need you to pick a team of four people--preferably to keep By on her toes. But do me a favor, leave Fraldarious out if it. I already promised him a duel if he sat out.”_ Byleth laughs at his side.

“I didn’t know they ever dueled.” She explains. They watch as younger Claude selects his team--Lorenz, Annette, Petra, and Sylvain--while Jeralt walks over to his daughter to hand her a lance. She doesn’t hide the grimace on her face.

_“I don’t want to hear it. Your lancework needs fine-tuning.”_ Jeralt says with a smirk and another pat on her head. _“You’re training the future of the Fodlan, By, can’t have them leave with sloppy form.”_ Dream Byleth nods and kneels to meditate and prepare for the fight.

“Why do you do that?” Claude asks, turning to his Byleth again. 

“Meditate?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the question. “My father taught me when I was young. He said that it was beneficial since emotions were always...difficult for me. Helps me get in tune with myself and the environment so I’m better prepared for a fight.” Claude hums in understanding while Jeralt approaches Claude’s ragtag group.

“ _Alright, Riegan, you’re the commander of this troop._ ” Claude relished in the tightlipped annoyance on Lorenz’ face, desperate to prove himself as the superior Alliance lord. “ _Your goal is to land 3 points on Byleth. She’s honest so she’ll let you know when you manage to land a hit. You each can only take one, understood?”_

_“Pardon me, Captain, but five against one is quite the stacked deck, wouldn’t you agree?”_ The Byleth at his side laughs loudly at that. 

Jerlat sizes him up for a moment with a hum. “ _I’m sure you’ll be fine._ ”

Young Claude huddles the group to talk strategy while Jerlat stands nearby, joking with Alois and Shamir about something.

“I always found it odd that you were so well versed in all weaponry.” Claude notes aloud, taking the downtime to look back at Byleth fully. She shrugs, almost a little bashful. 

“My father always wanted me skilled in the weapon triangle; but he noticed early on that I preferred swords over lances and axes. I think that’s why he always teased me for choosing a House Leader who uses bows.” She reminisces with a smile, missing the way redness paints Claude’s cheeks.

“So you agree you chose me and not just the Golden Deer, huh?” He teases with a shove on her shoulders, it earns him a laugh.

“You may have only done so because you wanted to unravel my secrets and use my strength, but you definitely made me feel so welcome in your band of misfits. Us outsiders have to stick together right?” His smile faltered at her calling out his original motives so easily again. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he wanted her to know that the boy who wanted to use her was long since gone. Before he could explain that to her, the volume on the memory came back.

_“You have your missions, both of you._ ” Jeralt boomed from the sidelines. “ _At your call, Riegan.”_ Dream Byleth stood from her meditation and readied her stance with her lance, a complete change in form from her with a sword. As the match began, Petra took the first rush as planned.

“So why these four?” Byleth asked as she watched her past self dodge a wraith strike effortlessly and lunge back at Petra’s nimble form.

“Petra fights with a style rarely seen in Fodlan and, selfishly, I knew early on that she was interested in learning under you. She was nervous about leaving the Black Eagles because of her forced loyalty to the Empire, but I knew if she got a taste for fighting with you that she’d join us.” Claude was relieved even as he explained it, knowing that in a few months time, Petra would kneel in front of Byleth and ask to join her class and how, sometime after that, she would defect from the Empire after the declaration of war.

“She’s amazing.” Byleth mused, mesmerized with Petra’s swift footwork and close-combat style of fighting. Byleth lunged a particularly hard thrust of her lance that Petra bent backward to avoid, her foot swinging out to knock her off balance, allowing her the opportunity to land a definitive strike against her side.

_“I have done one!”_ Petra exclaims, leaving herself unguarded for just half a second too long, as dream Byleth knocks into her. _“I have understanding. I needed to keep focus on the fighting.”_ They nod and smile at each other as Petra moves to the sidelines to watch her team. 

“Now Lorenz was still on his crazy noble horse this early in the year, as I’m sure you remember,” Claude explains as Lorenz and Byleth circle each other. “He knew you were a skilled advisor, but he still held out some reservations about you being a commoner. This was before you even obtained the Sword of the Creator, so he still just saw you as a mercenary with a pretty face. I wanted you to remind him just as far above him you were.” She laughed a little at his side as her past self went onto a full-force offensive flurry of thrusts.

“This was the day after I had to speak with him about his coming onto the ladies in search of a noble lady.” They both rolled their eyes at that. “So I think I went a little too hard against him.” They both winced as Byleth struck Lorenz hard in his lower gut, forcing him to keel over with a gasp.

“ _I...I am bested.”_ Lorenz struggled to say. “ _It seems I still have much to learn, Professor_.” Before hobbling to the sidelines where Petra tapped his shoulder encouragingly. 

“Annette is the fastest caster I’d seen. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not as naturally adept at magic as Lysithea with her two crests, but she works just as hard and found her own niche skill as a wind mage.” It’s scary how fast Annette already was at this point, throwing double Cutting Gales before Byleth could respond in kind. She was masterful at keeping foes at a distance, making it more difficult to land direct hits on her, but Byleth also had more range than normal with her lance and worked to adjust quickly.

Byleth used her own speed to sprint towards Annette full speed, making her eyes go wide in surprise. She threw another gale that Byleth slide under to avoid but her position on the ground made it impossible to dodge the fast follow-up Annette had already thrown at her. The hit lands and knocks Byleth back, who is panting heavily from the wind being knocked out of her, and a chorus of cheers from the audience erupts. For a split second, Annette’s eyes sweep over the eyes, probably looking for an orange-haired deadbeat among the crowd. Her attention is back to Byleth, but she is feeling the effects of her casting and only has a few more shots left in her.

“She was so young here.” Byleth muses, matching his own thoughts from earlier. “At the Battle of Eagle and Lion, she was throwing double of that spell alone, let alone the rest of the kit she learned.” She was so impressed at how far they had all come in such a relatively short period of time. 

“And the following week you asked her to join our class, she finally agreed,” Claude noted with a smile. It was the same month they gained Mercedes, Ferdinand, and Felix. All of whom had held out quite a long time before joining. 

Dream Byleth recognized the mage’s fatigue and doubled her efforts to take her down so she wouldn’t deplete herself more. Her grip tightened on the lance and she used her father’s form to expertly land a tempest lance strike against her. She fell down with a loud ‘oof’ but smiled up at the Professor anyway.

_“That was incredible, Professor. Thank you for the fight.”_ She bowed with practiced manners before running off to the side, smiling as Dimitri gave her a thumbs up and Felix a mumbled “good job”.

“Now at this point in time, Sylvain was still an overall pain in the ass. But I had seen him fighting with Dimitri and was impressed so I knew he’d be a good sparring partner for you.” She watched as Sylvain approached while twirling his lance casually.

_“Can I just say, Professor, that you are looking exceptionally radiant in this light._ ” The crowd collectively groans and rolls their eyes at his antics, but from this vantage point, Claude can see his eyes are focused and calculating. He’s using his own tactics to best her in this fight. 

“Sylvain became our closest advisor by the end of the year there, I forget how difficult he was early on.” Claude smiled at her use of ‘our’ so casually, as though they were one unit-- there is no one without the other. 

“He was always a skirt-chaser,” Claude noted with a nod. “But I think he realized he didn’t have to keep up the facade with us.”

And although past Byleth tried hard to treat her students equally, she was annoyed with him as she was with Lorenz, having had a particularly frustrating conversation with him in town a few days prior, and went as Sylvain wholly.

Sylvain used his height to jump back from her thrust easily enough, shooting his own back to gauge her reaction time and movements. He was calculating as they sparred, the clanking of weapons bouncing off her each other. Byleth learned from her father, a former Kingdom soldier, and as such Sylvain found it doable to counter her familiar moveset. 

She caught on quickly to the familiarity and him backward as a tactic her father taught her until his footing slipped just enough that Byleth was able to charge with the brunt of her lance, barreling him to the ground, standing above him with the lance pointed at his throat. 

_“Careful, Professor, I might develop a complex.”_ He tried to tease, but they could see the frustration in being bested by her.

_“Kingdom styles rely a lot on your foundation, so you have to be careful of opponents who know to upset that balance,_ ” Jeralt explains as Byleth helps Sylvain to his feet. She doesn’t try to placate him with what he did well, he’d always rather take the criticism, even if it frustrates him to no end. 

In the background, Shamir gets Claude’s attention and shares a word making the full magnitude of this memory come back to him like a brick. He keeps his eyes on Jeralt as he adjusts Sylvain’s stance and grip. He can feel Byleth’s eyes burning into his head as he watches a younger Claude notch his arrow and aims at Byleth, still leaning on her knees to collect herself from the fight. 

Past Byleth has the realization just in time and falls to the ground to avoid the padded arrows that grazes past her head. Jeralt smirks and pulls Sylvain out of the way to his side so that they can watch as Byleth stands and faces Claude, already ready with his next arrow.

_ “Claude! Of all the slimy moves to use, it is a noble’s duty--” _

_“The fight wasn’t over.”_ Shamir cuts off Lorenz cooly as the two stay frozen across from each other. _“Byleth and Claude both have one hit left.”_ She explains with a shrug. 

“ _Sorry again, Teach, but I gotta give the fans what they want.”_ Younger Claude smirked, his braid dangling in front of his eyes.

“How on earth did I ever see with that thing?” He grumbles, crossing his arms.

“I liked it,” Byleth says with confidence, making Claude’s heart stutter. “I was surprised when you cut you off.” She notes, lifting up to run her hand through his hair.

“It, uh, is big where I’m from. You cut it off when you become an adult.” He explains carefully, still too nervous to meet her eyes. He can feel her emotions shift and feels her hand cover his on the grass as she leans against him again.

“I suppose you had to grow up eventually. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” His words caught in his throat and he focused back on the fight, not trusting himself not to cry. “This is the day I learned you were a natural at axes.” She offered, noticing the axe slung on his back. He smiled, he wasn’t a  _ natural _ at them, he’d just been training with them on wyverns since he was young. He always preferred the bow, but when arrows run out, you need something to protect yourself with.

Their younger selves danced in a beautiful give and take of battle. They moved in a wide circle, always allowing Claude the opportunity to pick up arrows that missed, frustrating Byleth. She needed him to stay still so he would be forced to bring this close combat. If she had two hits left, she’d rush him and purposely take one so she could land one of her own, but she had to play it safe.

She stayed in her position, only moving to dodge but not enough to let him move closer to collect his arrows. Once he was low he pulled out his axe and smiled at her, taking a readied stance and beckoning her to come at him.

She took the bait, rushing him with her lance tightly at her side, she thrust wide, twirling and her arm extending like a dance move. He deflected the hit with the brunt of his axes and tried to hook the lance to disarm her, but she was quick enough to pull it back to her side. She liked his strategy, so she lunged forward again, this time redirecting to his hand to smack the axe out of his hand and out of reach. He pulled his bow again but she was faster than it would take him to notch and arrow so she lunged at him with full speed.

Claude grimaced as his past self stretched his bow open and lunged right back at her, the bow landing around her neck before she understood what was happening. Claude used her momentum against her, spinning her to the ground on her knees with the string of his arrow tight around her neck. There was a hush among the field as Claude stood over her knees, pulling the wood of his bow so her neck was forced to look up at him.

“ _Yield_.” His younger self commanded, breathless. His older self could appreciate the intimacy of the position and did his best to fight back the intrusive thoughts of how it might feel to have her kneeling in such a way before him in another situation. She went to speak but he tightened his pull and she dropped her lance, raising her hands slowly.

_“I yield._ ”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers from all the houses and the among the knights. His younger self was smart enough to immediately loose his grip and help her out of the bow.

“ _That is no way to treat a lady.”_ Ferdinand protested, seemingly horrified with what he had seen.

“ _I agree. Claude, you can’t represent the Alliance and take part in such vulgar schemes--”_ Lorenz tried to add as Claude helped Byleth to her feet.

“ _That’s enough._ ” Her voice quieted the crowd. _“Claude did nothing wrong.”_

“ _But in a proper duel--_ ” Lorenz tried again. Claude stood there, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“ _This was not a duel. The fact is there are no rules on a battlefield. A bandit isn’t going to follow the tournament structure for fighting and you shouldn’t either when we’re sparring like this. If Claude was an enemy, I’d be dead. Simple as that_.” 

They both flinched at that. Claude had almost forgotten just how stoic she was when she started, only allowing rare glimpses into emotions like frustration.

“ _That was a damn good fight. Your lancework has gotten better. You should be using it more in fights._ ” Jeralt offered Byleth with a ruffle of her blue hair.

Some students ran up to Byleth to ask questions and crowd her with compliments as Jerlat walked over to where Claude was drinking water.

“ _You have a good eye, Riegan_.” Jeralt offered with his arms crossed. _“Solid tactics and a knack for authority. You’re Tiana’s kid alright._ ” Younger Claude became visibly nervous while real Byleth stirred next to him. 

_“I didn’t know you knew my mother,_ ” Claude responds wearily. 

_“Sure, I knew your Uncle too. Real piece of garbage, that one.”_ Jeralt flinched, as though catching himself in a mistake. “ _Sorry, kid, I forgot he died a while back._ ”

_Younger Claude laughed, waving off his comment. “_ No, don’t worry about it. I only really met him twice and he was just as terrible as I’m sure you remember.”

“ _Well, still._ ” Jeralt cleared his throat and glanced back at Byleth. “ _Being at the monastery has been good for her. And I know I have you brats to thank for that. So thanks._ ” Jeralt offered weakly before placing a hand on his shoulder. _“But if I ever catch you in that kind of position with my daughter again, I’ll show you why they call me the Blade Breaker.”_

Claude was brought back to reality at Byleth laughing loudly next to him as the crowd faded away from the field. 

“Um, that was my life he threatened.” He pouted.

“I’m sorry, Claude. I just...never knew he had those kinds of ‘Fatherly Urges’” She laughed again and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “It was kind of a cheap shot, you have to admit,” Byleth said as she stood up. When Claude stood, they were suddenly in the middle of the field across from each other, weapons in hand.

“Sorry, Teach, I just wanted to impress you.” He offered as he lazily readied his bow. She glared at him and crouched a little.

“Well, it worked. Now do it again.” She rushed at him and Claude waited until she was close enough to hit her with the same tactic, bow around her head, and spinning to knock her off of her feet.

This time, however, she crouched low enough to pull Claude onto her back and flip him onto the ground. Even in the dream, his ears ringing from the impact and when his vision focused again, she was sitting atop his chest, her thighs on either side of his body. His heart rate doubled. 

“Yield?” She questioned as she pressed the bowstring against his throat, the pain  _ almost _ giving way to a pleasure he did not have time to dissect right now.

“I yield.” He returns with his hands lifted, only dropped them atop her thighs when she throws the bow and leans down to stare at him, her seafoam hair pooling around them. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

“I don’t know.” She closes her eyes and inhales slowly. “It’s dark, but murky. The darkness moves?” She questions, her eyebrows tightly knit in concentration. 

“Like the void?” He asks and she flinches.

“Somewhat. And there’s a green hum. Like how it feels when Flayn heals you.”

“So you’re being healed?” He asks with a newfound eagerness. She shakes her head and frowns.

“Not quite...it’s more like I’m just...healing.” Though the answer wasn’t what Claude was hoping for, he smiled nonetheless.

“Then maybe that’s just it.” He offers as he rubs her thighs soothingly. “You got hurt when you fell and your body is healing itself. Slowly.” Her eyes opened, an endless glowing green moist with tears.

“I shouldn’t be here.” She shook her head and Claude felt the dream collapses. He grabbed her face tightly between his hands.

“By, we’re okay. We’re all alive.” He reminded her with concrete certainty. “Just rest and focus on healing.”

“I’m scared I won’t wake up.” She sobs, curling against his chest and clutching his shirt tightly.

“You will. And I don’t care how long it takes, but I’ll be there when you do.”

“Promise me, Claude. Please. Promise me I’ll wake up from this.” She begged, clawing at him desperately. He hugged her as tight as he could manage with the world quaking around them.

“I promise.”

\--

One loud sob echoes in his ears and then he is back in his bed, arms wrapped around nothing, face wet with tears. Whether they were hers or his own, he didn’t know for certain. He grabbed a notebook to write down everything he remembered and his eyes fell on a leather-bound journal untouched since he fled Garreg Mach.

He grabs it, wipes his face, and opens it to the first page. Determined to find something he couldn’t find before in this tragic love story. Because maybe last time, he was paying attention to the wrong part. This wasn’t about Jeralt.

It was about her mother.

Her mother was a key to unraveling Byleth’s mysteries and understanding that key could bring him closer to achieving his promise to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not updating! I got suuuuper sick and was practically bedridden for so long and couldn't focus on anything. Plus this chapter was always my biggest stressor, no matter how many times I worked through it I never could get the ending right. So I eventually scrapped and retried and am much happier with the flow of it. 
> 
> I'll try and get the next chapter posted in a few days, now that I'm back to catching up on projects!   
> Please let me know what you thought, your feedback has been so instrumental throughout this process.


	4. Year 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Year 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big apology at the end of this chapter.  
> It's a monster chapter, always was and it had a lotttt that needed to be reworked (and that was before my hard drive died) 
> 
> Rating went from T to M to be safe, as this chapter has some detailed (but not too graphic) descriptions of violence and mentions of r*pe

“Solis, stop being a brat.” Claude shouts over the rush of wind that passes through his hair. His white wyvern, still annoyed that Claude had chosen to train with Luna again, was attempting to fly through all of their exercises with them, frequently messing up Luna’s flightpath. She screeches loudly and barrel-rolls beside them in defiance forcing Claude to resign his hopes of target practice today. He hooks Failnaught onto his back and pushes up into a standing position on Luna.

“Sorry, love, looks like training is cancelled early.” Luna hums back, a combination of frustration and understanding at the young, overeager wyvern. This situation is why most riders only have one wyvern that they work with. In Almyra, it’s why you raise yours from an egg and become partners from that point on. He’s been raising Luna since he was thirteen but only found a baby Solis the year before he came to Fodlan. And she was desperate to make up for lost time with him. 

He whistled loudly before launching off of Luna’s back, falling down and trusting that Solis would catch him. She lost balance when he landed on her saddle, forcing him to grip the reins and right her positioning. 

“Alright, Solis, you want to work that badly?” She coos and her wings flap once in excitement. “Let’s go.” He pushes them into a nosedive, intent to at least get some flying practice in if he couldn’t work on his aim. 

About an hour later, Solis is finally gliding more than flapping and her screeches of excitement have turned into tired hums. Deciding he’s put her through enough, he guides them back to the aviary that was recently constructed atop his estate. She lands gracelessly and immediately flops down, breathing heavily. 

“Solis, we’ve been through this.” Claude begins conversationally as he hops down off of her back. He starts to work on removing the belts of the saddle. “Number one, you’re  _ way _ too young to be on the battlefield right now.” She huffs in frustration, her tail slapping against the stone. “Number two, you stick out like a sore thumb. Not in a bad way,” He rolls his eyes when she goes to swing her tail at him for the comment. “I know you’re beautiful, but other people are still new to this. Let me get these Fodlanese babies used to wyverns flying around more often before I show you off on the frontlines, okay?” The thing is, Claude knew that within the next few years, Solis would be  _ much _ larger than she already was. She’d be quite the symbol of peace and unity under Claude’s banner when the time came. But she still had to mature and frankly, Luna was much more attuned with his fighting style already. This is war and he can’t afford to take risks he can’t afford. Not until he gets his plan back in motion.

Not until he gets Byleth back. 

“ _ She’s jealous because you don’t spend enough time with her, kiddo.”  _ Claude sighs, glancing back to see Nader leaning casually against Luna, who was curled around him dozing off peacefully. He was cutting into a round fruit with his knife, popping the slices into his mouth with a cheesy grin on his face. He handed one to Luna, who took it from his hand without opening her eyes. 

_ “I don’t have enough hours in the day, Nader.”  _ Claude bit back, the words sounding particularly aggressive in his native tongue.  _ “I’m being pulled in every direction. I’m lucky to get as much training as I do now.” _

_ “I’ve told you before to let me help with the workload.”  _ Nader says casually, tossing and catching one of the fruit slices in his mouth.

Claude sighed as he placed the saddle in storage beside Luna’s and filled the basin with fresh water for the exhausted youngling. Ever since Nader joined him last year, he’d been pestering Claude to give him some more responsibilities. But Claude was still nervous that someone on the streets would recognize the powerful Almyran General and out his long standing plans of unity across the borders. No one can know his ties to the Almyran army in  _ any  _ capacity until it was time to play his cards.

_ “You don’t exactly blend in here, Nader.”  _ Claude tried to remind him, walking over and dropping to sit next to him and lean back against Luna’s rough scales. She hums, recognizing her partner’s presence against her.

_ “The estate bought me as a friend of Lady Tiana in my first month. You’re being overly cautious, Khalid.”  _ Claude doesn’t respond for a long moment, instead taking a bit of fruit offered to him. 

_ “I know. I’m just nervous, I guess.”  _ Claude offers lamely. It’s not like he doesn’t understand why he was nervous and if he was being honest, it had little to do with his Godfather’s presence in Fodlan. The anniversary of the Millenium Festival was just a few weeks away and he’d been terribly distracted by it. This year was rough from a political standpoint; constant arguments among the roundtable and other lords, supply chains constantly disrupted by bordering Imperial forces, further news of destruction and havoc left in the Kingdom. Claude was barely sleeping and retreating further into himself as a means of putting on a front for his friends and his people. He hadn’t even been able to deliver goods to Ingrid, Sylvain, & Felix personally in over eight months. And when he was able to orchestrate supply runs without being scrutinized by piercing eyes, it was never enough. The messages they sent back to him were always appreciative, but Claude was starting to imagine bitter words between the lines. Resentment for not doing more, judgement for his fallacies as a leader, or frustration at the pity he was showing them.

Logically, of course, he knew that was absurd. But at night when sleep evaded him, his doubts came clawing to the forefront of his mind in the faces of those who tormented him growing up. 

“Master Claude?” They both righted up to the small maid standing in the door to the stairwell.

“Yes, Margaret?” She blushed and stared down to avoid his gaze, apparently still not used to a lord addressing ‘the help’ so casually.

“I apologize for interrupting you and Master Nardel.” She bowed and Claude stood with a sigh, not feeling up to reminding her about addressing them so formally. “I’m afraid there is a couple downstairs requesting an audience immediately.” She noted the way Claude’s hip cocked to the side and eyebrows lifted to the sky. “Lord and Lady Ordelia are insistent that you speak with them personally, they’re making quite a show I’m afraid.”

Now  _ that _ caught Claude off guard. Of every person that spent every waking minute pestering him, he’d always been beyond grateful for the quiet House Ordelia. Their main concern was protecting their people from the Imperial forces using House Gloucester’s Great Bridge to traverse the area. He’d even seen Lysithea a few times, her skills as a warlock tuning to even greater heights. She’d grown her hair out some more and started wearing dresses that Claude couldn’t help but find cute.

Of course, she blasted a miasma his way so fast when he’d said so. Maybe he shouldn’t have ruffled her hair and called her a cute kid while he did so.

But the important thing that caught Claude’s interest hearing the Lord and Lady at his estate was just that; both of them were _here._ They never left Lysithea alone, let alone for a trip to Derdriu.

“Nardel, come on. Something’s wrong.” Nader jumped up and followed Claude as he rushed down the stairs. As they made it to the bottom of the stairwell, he could hear the rarely heard shouts of Lord Ordelia, desperate to be heard by  _ someone _ .

“Lord Ordelia, what’s the matter.” Claude demanded as he burst through to the main foyer. They looked a mess, hair thrown about and clothes tattered. As though they’d been asleep and just walked here instead.

“Please, Duke Riegan. You must help her.” Claude’s blood ran cold at his words as he closed the distance, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I need you to slow down and tell me what’s going on.” The authority of his tone seemed to snap some sense into him, even the tears rolling freely down his wife’s face seemed to pause for a moment.

“It’s my territory. An Imperial faction invaded just before sundown. It's being led by that snake at the Emperor’s right hand.” Lord Ordelia explained with venom dripping from his voice.

“Hubert von Vestra.” Claude nods with a grimace. Sending Hubert on an invasion meant this was a planned and coordinated effort to place a foothold more securely in the Alliance. 

“We didn’t see them coming until it was too late. The village is being destroyed and they’re going after civilians in hopes of forcing a surrender.” Out of the corner of his eye, Nader cracked his neck in anger at the news. 

“But how are you here?” Dusk had only just begun to turn more fully into night. Even the fastest forces would have had several hours of travel to get from Ordelia to his front door.

“It’s our daughter.” Lady Ordelia sobs, her hand still shaking as she wiped tears off her cheeks. “She asked us to request your help. She said you’d know what to do. A promise you’d made to her.”

Claude knew what Lysithea was referring to, of course. He recalls a moment just before the battle for Garreg Mach when he had found Lysithea heaving into a bush whilst running drills with mage battalions. She’d brushed it off as a symptom of her crests and refused to let him try to convince her to retreat with the next group of students.

Instead, she asked Claude outright if he thought they had a chance to prevail. Unable or perhaps unwilling to lie to her, he explained that while they would be able to land a heavy blow against Edelgard’s forces early on, that no, he did not see them retaining Garreg Mach.

_ “I see.” _ Her gaze turned distant as she watched the mages below as they fired a resonant lightning on their targets.  _ “Claude? The Empire destroyed my house once already. I can’t put my parents through that again.”  _ He stared at her, tears swelling in her large doe eyes.  _ “No matter what happens, if we survive this, I need you to promise to look after Ordelia.” _

_ “Of course, Lysithea. The Alliance isn’t going to go down without a fight.”  _ He had tried to reassure her, but she was already shaking her head.

_ “That’s the thing. They can’t handle another fight with those monsters. I would rather lose Ordelia than lose my people or my parents. So you must promise me that as the next Duke, you’ll use your authority and protect my people. A chunk of land isn’t worth all of that.” _

It was a promise that Claude made with his whole heart, despite knowing the risks. It seems many people had broken their way to his most vulnerable parts since joining the academy. He found himself so willingly breaking his own rules of keeping his distance and his options open.

But Lysithea’s request was not an option for Claude.

“Before we could get her to leave with us, she summoned some magic that I’d never seen from her before. She hugged us both and next thing we knew, we were at the edge of the city.” Claude couldn’t help but drop his jaw at the thought of Lysithea managing to warp two adults all the way from her door to his. 

“Nardel, go saddle Luna and meet me out front.” Claude’s voice was low and biting as he spoke, the rage he felt towards Edelgard bubbling under his skin.

“I’ll go with you.” Lord Ordelia offered, bowing to Claude a little.

“No.” His word was final and he immediately softened when he watched the distraught father flinch at the words. “I promised Lysithea I would keep you safe. Your daughter is the strongest gremory I have ever seen. She’s keeping your people safe. I promise I’ll bring her back.” He vowed, waving Margaret over to him and requesting his armor be brought to him.

“Please, Duke Riegan, she is everything we have left...the Empire already…” Claude reached forward, squeezing her shoulder with a soft smile. If Lysithea wasn’t ready to delve into the exact details of what the Empire did to her, then he wasn’t willing to hear it from anyone else.

“Just rest. And trust in me.” He asked gently.

“May the Goddess protect you.” She offered back, her hands clenched tightly in prayer.

“And whatever else is up there too.” Claude could practically feel the resentment from Lord Ordelia’s gut as he spoke. Clearly his belief had been shaken by the atrocities he had seen done to his family. Claude nodded, thankful for the wish and waved a group of servants over to them.

“See to it that House Ordelia has whatever they need while I’m gone.” Claude heard a loud thud and screech from the courtyard and makes it outside in time to see Nader hop down from Luna, who was geared up and focused for a fight.

“She’s all set.” He explains as he readies Claude’s weapons. Some attached to the saddle, others ready to get set on his back. Margaret came running out with his armor and began to help him gear up. He was thankful that he had been training earlier and wasn’t trying to strip himself out of his ceremonial robes.

“Nardel, head over to the soldier’s barracks and get the Immortal Corps ready to ride. You’ll meet me in Ordelia as soon as you can manage.” Nader falters and frowns down at the young lord. “I can’t waste any time waiting.” Nader bites his cheek, clearly agreeing with his reasoning but not a fan of sending him on his way alone. 

Margaret finishes his chest plate and Claude immediately hooks Failnaught onto his back, along with a silver axe underneath. He does a once over of Luna’s armor and harness and presses his forehead against hers.  _ “Lend me your strength once more, my love.” _ He whispers in Almyran, too quietly for Margaret to understand. She coos and presses back against him with a huff. He mounts her and straps his ankles down, not needing to be free-moving until the fighting starts. “Let’s go save Lysithea.” She crouches a little and with a deafening shriek vaults off the ground and into the cold air. He guides her in the direction and hunches over, gripping her reins tightly. Strong wings propel them forward with exhilarating speed and all Claude can do is gaze at the horizon and pray to his gods above that he can uphold his promise to someone today. 

\--

He sees Ordelia from miles away. The estate village is up in flames, a sickening glow and odor rising to the heavens. Luna growls and bites at the air, making Claude frown. She was smelling other wyverns, which meant Hubert wasn’t pulling any punches. He looked behind him uselessly, sending a wish that Nader wasn’t too far behind him before leaning down to unhook his ankle straps.

“Our first priority is to find Lysithea.” He calls Luna who huffs in response. They fly over the town, buildings ransacked and burning, villagers pleading with enemy forces for their lives and Claude mashes his teeth. He pulls his relic and it roars to life under his heightened emotions. He notches an arrow and squeezes his thigh against Luna, who takes the cue to dive down so Claude can lodge an arrow in an enemy mage’s neck. Two more arrows hit their mark and the cornered villagers sing praises up to him as they gather others to retreat. 

He scans the area for a moment before he sees a large manifested moon surrounded by liquid purple haze. Smirking he spurs Luna full charge towards the villa, circling to get a picture of what was going on. Standing in her class robes and armor, surrounded by a dozen or so mages of her house’s colors, Lysithea brought down the strike of the dark magic attack on a wave of enemies in front of her. She looks up immediately when Claude’s red arrow lands in the heart of one imperial soldier that was still standing. He lands with a loud thud as Luna’s bared fangs keep the next wave of soldier’s hesitating.

“You made it.” Lysithea’s relief is palpable, even if the fighting is hardly over. 

“Your parents are safe.” Claude responds, arrow trained on a flying wyvern unit headed their way. He takes a deep breath and calculates the distance he needs to fire the shot at before his crest activates and the curved shot launches skyward, piercing the wyvern in its soft underbelly and forcing them down in a tailspin. “Are you okay?” He chances a look back at her and sees no sign of exhaustion or ill effects from her crests.

“I’m fine. Hubert is relentless. He thinks I’ll surrender before he runs out of soldiers.” She explains with a roll of her eyes as she quickly repins her hair up and out of her face.

A tactical gamble, one that would’ve paid off in Hubert’s favor had Lysithea been an  _ ordinary _ mage. “Do you know where he is?” He asks her, immediately turning to fire a flurry of arrows when Luna tenses suddenly. Most hit their blind marks and whoever is standing at the end of it is downed by Lysithea’s precise miasma. 

“He went to start burning the town.” He didn’t have to look at her to know the rage that was on her face. “He knows exactly where to hit me, Claude.” Claude nodded in solemn agreement. After all, while there are no details on the matter of the tragedy, the quiet and kind people of Ordelia are well known across the continent for their resilience and faith. Going after the morale of such mentally fortified people would be a devastating blow. 

“I have reinforcements inbound. Once they’re here, I’ll take out Hubert.” There was enough venom in his voice that Lysithea didn’t bother arguing for the right to fight him. After all, she’d been fighting for several hours and her magic reserves were already hurting. 

A loud, animalistic shout made them flinch and ready their own attacks towards the entrance of the villa when a swordmaster was suddenly launched forward towards them. The hulking figure marched forward, rolling his shoulders back as though that were a warm-up. Shirtless, hair a mess, and hands wrapped in glowing relics were a dead give away before he even opened his mouth.

“Sneaking up on little lady Ordelia wasn’t your best move, pal.” Balthus sighed before hitting him with a silencing spell to knock him unconscious. “Oh, there you are Claude. Couldn’t resist joining the fun, yeah?”

Despite the situation, Claude couldn’t help but smile at the towering brute.

“Good to see you, Balthus. I didn’t expect you out here.” Responding to Balthus’ gauntlet fueled train he must’ve ran through their forces, the commander called them back to regroup, allowing them a moment of respite. 

“I owe House Ordelia quite the favor. We could see the attack from one of our outposts and goddess be damned if the almighty King of Grappling was going to sit idly by.” He cheesed a smile, walking over with his arms glowing under the relics to heal Lysithea, who let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

They fought for some time, the three of them working surprisingly well together despite the glaringly different movesets. Luna’s ear twitched and she looked up, letting out a loud shriek into the night.

“About time.” Claude teased when Nader flew low over his head, dual wielding axes and a crooked smile. “Evacuate the rest of the town and get those fires put out. Let’s drive them back.” His riders all cheered in anticipation of the fight as the battalion soared over them.

“I suppose I should congratulate you.” The three of them aimed their weapons at Hubert, who was standing in front of them casually, picking at his fingernails. “You got here quick enough to put a wrench in my plans.” He clarified when no one moved. Claude side-eyed Lysithea, making sure she didn’t reveal that the only reason Claude got her when he did was because of the highest level warp magic he’d ever heard of. It was much more advantageous for Hubert to believe that the Alliance is ready for an invasion. “It’s a shame. You and Lady Edelgard have so much in common, she hoped you would join her cause.”

Lysithea stepped forward and Luna crouched just a hair more, ready to lunge in her defense. 

“I would never agree to this kind of senseless murder and destruction for the sake of secreative ideals.” She barked back, her hands glowing with dark magic.

“There is nothing senseless about Lady Edelgard’s actions. She’s doing this to prevent what you went through from happening to any other helpless child.” Claude had so many questions, but could feel that this was  _ not _ his discussion to have. Not yet anyway. If Lysithea was going to fight with Claude, he needed to allow her to continue to make that choice. Even at the risk of her joining Edelgard and her ideals. The murky dark magic roars to life from her fingertips as her emotions flare.

“She’s working  _ with _ them! You think I don’t recognize your masked troops?” She fired a ball of miasma which forced Hubert to shoot his own back to block it. “Edelgard should be fighting against them, not us! We could have helped her!” She threw another two in succession, causing Hubert to dodge and throw his own spells back with intent to hit.

“Perhaps. But the Church is just as prominent a threat.” It wasn’t the first time Claude heard someone rally against the church. And if he was being honest, what he had managed to uncover so far led him to agree. However, Claude’s own plans would see to a new dawn on Fodlan and a reformation of the church entirely, so he didn’t feel bad for having a similar thought to Edelgard. 

Because at least he wasn’t suggesting a genocide.

“You tell Edelgard that she’s no better than those monsters and that I look forward to personally being a part of the army that brings her down.” Hubert’s eyes go wide as Lysithea suddenly changes spells and launches a devastating Hades at him. He tries to dodge but Claude knocks him back into position with an arrow to his shoulder. The blast sickeningly cracks against his skin, the odor of death almost overpowering.

“I see.” He coughs up a chunk of darkened phlegm, his neck black from the impact. “Then you’ll bleed with the rest of them.” His hands fold into an unnatural position and for just a moment, Claude and Hubert lock eyes, a calm sense of understanding between the two of them.

Understanding of what, Claude didn’t exactly know for certain. Perhaps for loyalty amidst adversity or for tactical prowess in a godless time.

He warps away with a hum and from the distance, a general announces a formal retreat. There’s no time to even breathe a sigh of relief before Lysithea collapses to the ground with a loud wail of agony.

“Hey!” Claude jumps down to help her as she writhes on her side. “You’re okay.” He coos while Balthus attempts to settle her ailments with his healing.

“Thank you Claude.” She chokes out, tears beginning to flow freely down her face. The sight breaks Claude’s heart and he scoops her into his arms to cradle her against his chest while she sobs. Him and Balthus share a broken look before he resumes healing. He knows they share a similar thought; Lysithea is just a  _ kid _ for heaven’s sake and she almost single handedly led an occupying force against the Imperial Army.

But she was still too young to have had to do that on her own.

“You’re okay.” He whispers against her ash smelling hair. “You’re safe now.” 

In the distance, he hears the coordinated efforts of his soldiers to douse the fires and heal the wounded just barely over the loud desperate screams coming from Lysithea. He knows that this is a victory, further proof that the Imperial Forces have nothing to gain by splitting their focus between the Alliance and the Kingdom. But as she shakes in his arms, the adrenaline fading away to the panic and hurt she was undoubtedly plagued with, he felt disgusted for even thinking of this in a positive light.

He looks up, desperate to feel his ambitions shrink among the night sky.

But the smoke from the fires blocks the view of the stars.

\--

Claude opens his eyes to cool darkness, enough that his breath fogs when he exhales. He looks around, recognizing the street as one near the Riegan estate. In the distance he hears a loud hum of people, excitedly singing and enjoying in merriment. It causes him to frown. The past few weeks have been nothing but tense within the Alliance, as negotiations were erupting about the recent attack on Alliance territory. Claude was doing the most mental gymnastics he’d ever managed, doing his best to keep out of the war, but also upholding the appearance of a unified front against the Empire despite some lords willingness or desire to join the ‘winning’ team.

As far as he knew, there were no festivals scheduled since all their funds are being directed towards the borders and military supplies. 

“Where are we?” He nearly jumped out of his skin when Byleth’s voice was suddenly in his ear. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment, before lunging forward to pull her as tightly as possible into a hug. She hugged him back gently, not questioning or pestering him for answers. He was so desperate to see her, this past year he swore he started forgetting what she looked like.

“Derdriu.” He clears his throats when her earlier question finally processes in his brain.

“I’ve never been.” He pulls back and looks at her eyes, which were almost glowing in the darkness of the night. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that each year has brought them something different, but why would they be dreaming of a place she’d never been?

_ “Why are you here? _ ” Claude flinches like he’s been struck with a Thoron at the loud feminine voice echoing through the dark city streets. He turns slowly and looks at familiar emerald eyes that pierce through his armor like paper. Claude’s heart is crashing in his chest at the sight of her, all dressed up in Alliance robes and auburn hair braided with flowers weaved throughout. She was so terribly young in front of him right now, perhaps barely older than Claude himself now and it was dizzying.

Words catch in his throat as he tries to come up with a response for her, but he realizes that her eyes are looking past him-- she doesn’t actually see him. Those calculating eyes are glaring at the night as she waits for an answer. She tenses suddenly when footsteps clack on the road towards them. Claude steps to the side, uncomfortable at her gaze even if it wasn’t actually directed towards him.

“She’s beautiful.” Byleth’s eyes are wide as she stares at his mother, completely entranced by her. “You look just like her.” Claude blushes at the inadvertent compliment and focuses back to the scene in front of them as a lanky young man with matching features stops running and leans against his knees. 

_ “What do you want, Godfrey?” _ Tiana’s voice, though clearly younger than what Claude was used to hearing, enveloped him with its comforting rasp and cadence.

_ “For you to stop running off every time we have a disagreement, Tiana.” _ Godfrey’s condescension causes bile to rise into Claude’s throat. He wishes this weren’t just a memory and he could break his jaw for talking to his mother that way.

_ “A disagreement?” _ Tiana asked incredulously, turning to face him fully with her signature stare down that Claude found himself on the receiving end one too many times growing up. _ “A ‘disagreement’ is about what kind of tea is best in the morning. A ‘disagreement’ is about what trade routes are most efficient for our merchants. But the lives of people who are in search of a better life; of a safer life? That’s not just a ‘disagreement’. _ ” Her raspy voice cuts through him like a hot knife and Claude can’t help but smirk at the way Godfrey falters under her collected response.

_ “There is nothing wrong about being cautious for the sake of the Alliance.” _ He tried to counter, but Tiana stands with her arms crossed and feet planted firmly in the ground. 

_ “Cautious about a single mother with her  _ infant _ child requesting asylum?” _ Tiana barked back, relishing in the way Godfrey’s wheels spin in his head about how to justify his blatant discrimination.

_ “She could be a criminal. My point is that you don’t actually know if she’s telling the truth or not. The Almyrans are ruthless.” _

_ “We force them to be that way! Every day that we don’t try to smooth over relations and foster positive bonds over the borders, we force their hand. They’ve been on the defensive from our onslaught for years Godfrey. What you say about them, they say the same of you.”  _ That seemed to strike a nerve with her younger brother and he marched forward to get right in her face. But Tiana, bless her stubborn heart, juts her chin out and refuses to look away from his gaze. 

_ “Let them call me anything to my face and see what happens.” _ He snarled, his face twisting in disgust.  _ “You had no right to speak out against Father’s speech the way you did. You undermined his authority and he will be paying for that discrepancy at the roundtable for months because of your selfish actions.” _

_ “ I had no right?” _ She laughed genuinely, smiling up at her brother, a stark opposite look on his face.  _ “I am to be the next head of the Alliance. And if you think for a second that I’m going to continue this country’s long line of racist injustice, then you are in for a rough adjustment, my brother.”  _ His jaw dropped and Claude laughed at the expert way his mother dismantled her opponent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude could see the intense focus Byleth had watching this. As a mercenary, she had mentioned a few times that she was largely removed from much of the political drama of Fodlan. She obviously knew about the discrimination Almyrans faced in Fodlan, but to be privy to a conversation with such a close minded individual seemed to fill her with emotions he couldn’t quite place. It seemed her feelings were in turmoil.

_ “You’re being unreasonable.” _ Godfrey bit back at her, attempting to use his height on her as an intimidation tactic. “ _ You have a responsibility to your people and the majority of those people would rather see the Almyran problem dealt with than buy into the ridiculous thought of holding hands and singing songs together.”  _ The disgust in his voice just reinforced Claude that his Uncle was not at all the right person to ever call the shots. How could he think that peace is a ridiculous option? Doesn’t he know that  _ those people _ are tired of sending their best off to a futile fight with no real outcome? 

_ “Go back to the festival, Godfrey. I’m afraid if I stare at you any longer, I’ll be tempted to knock your teeth in.” _ Her stance made her seem like an unmovable statue in the way of his weak and ignorant ideals. He huffed, clearly not done with the argument, but loud cheers and singing from the festival in the distance seemed to distract him.

_ “You should head back.” _ He said in a low voice, much less charged than the one before. 

_“No. I will not allow you to soil this day that the Goddess granted us. This is to be in her honor, and if she knew that her words and beliefs were being twisted in such a way to promote violence and hate, she would be disgusted.”_ _That_ caught Claude off guard. Growing up, he had learned about the Church of Seiros of course and the many holidays dedicated to Sothis and her Saints, but he never got the feeling that it was something his mother believed in. But hearing her talk about it now, Claude realized that there could be a future where the religion itself could still be followed, without the means of the violence of the church itself. A complete reformation, back to the beliefs of the Goddess and her words being used to spread peace and kindness.

_ “You’re a fool.” _ He whispered harshly before turning and marching off, fading into the darkness of this vision.

Tiana did not move for some time, choosing to study the path he left for a long moment. Her eyes were wet from tears, but Claude knew she teared up when she was angry more so than when she was sad. 

_ “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time.” _ She announces into the night, wiping her eyes and turning towards where Claude and Byleth were standing. Claude was startled, as though she were looking at him, but Byleth gently pulled him to the side so their gaze could follow hers into a large garden just off the street. Large native trees and shrubberies were all in bloom, though most of the flowers had closed for the night.  _ “You were given quite the gift just now. Two high value targets alone in abandoned streets?” _ There was still no noise or response from where she was looking.  _ “Though if it's my father you’re looking for, I’m afraid he’ll be quite guarded the rest of the night.” _

Rustling in the bushes was the only notice before a large, hulking figure arose as though from nature itself. Pitch black hair and a sculpted beard made Claude’s chest flutter, and he looked towards Byleth who was eyeing him closely and looking between the two of them. Her eyebrows were furrowed again.

“He’s huge.” Is what she finally deduced, making Claude laugh a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Turns out, Claude  _ did _ know this story and what they were watching play out in front of them right now. His parents often told the story of how they met, the emotion of their eyes gazing into each other’s depths as they recalled it fondly. 

But that realization made Claude nervous about the weight of this vision and the secrets it could reveal to Byleth before he had the chance to do so himself. He didn’t know the details of what they discussed and it made him nervous. 

He wasn’t ready. 

A warmth enveloped him, easing the tension in his shoulders. When he looked down, Byleth had taken it upon herself to intertwine her fingers with his and wrap her free hand around his bicep, leaning against him as she watched. Unable to resist the peace she brought to his heart, he turned to more fully press against her and kissed the top of her head.

“ _ You knew I was here and yet you said nothing _ .” His Fodlanese was perfect, even if he did have a heavy accent while he spoke. Claude appreciated the way his father looked as a younger man; chest still broad and arms muscular, but much more rigid and calculating in his gaze. As tough as his father was growing up, he realized now how much softer--if that could even be considered the right word--his mother must have made him.

_ “I assumed you would have revealed yourself eventually. Couldn’t resist a little sibling spat then, hm? _ ” Claude couldn’t help but smirk at his mother’s signature attitude. She was always the most informed on the field, even caught off guard such as tonight. She wasn’t nervous or angry at the intrusion, just matter of fact as she stared up at the hulking figure in front of her. 

“ _ My apologies.” _ Claude’s eyebrow raised high in the exact same speed as Tiana’s at the small bow he gave her.  _ “Eavesdropping on a personal matter is not something I’m, ah what’s the word,  _ inclined _ to do. I’m afraid I’m familiar with familial arguments.” _ He grimaced and it was oddly earnest.  _ “Though neither of you stabbed each other, so at least there’s that?” _ At his almost questioning tone, Tiana let out a laugh like a raspy breeze. It comforted Claude in its familiarity. 

“ _ Not this time, no.” _ She smiled at him and Claude noticed the way his father’s eyes widened at the sight. 

_ “If you know why I’m here, why aren’t you having me arrested?” _ He asked with urgency, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand. Byleth laughed at his side, using her hand to cover up her smile when Claude looked to her. 

“You make the same face when you’re thinking too hard about something.” She explained, smiling even wider beneath her hand when she saw his face flush from feeling so called out. 

_ I blush even in my dreams? How is that fair? _ Claude groaned, pinching her side in retaliation to make her jump. 

Tiana was staring at his father with a cool gaze, not revealing much of anything that she wasn’t prepared to reveal herself.  _ “My father has played an active role in the violence and destruction of your country. He knows that, Fodlan knows that, and you know that. It makes sense that one day someone would want to put an end to that cycle.” _ Tiana shrugged like it was the most obvious answer in the world, but that just made his father’s frown deeper, arms crossed over his broad chest tightly.  _ “While I can’t say you’re a particularly nondescript assassin, by not taking out my brother and myself it means he’s your only target.”  _ She paused, giving the towering Almyran the chance to disagree with her words. When he let out an exhale through his nose, something akin to laughter, she smiled and continued.  _ “I can’t guarantee he’ll be accessible, but on festival days he likes to stand on his private balcony on the estate. That would be your best time to try if you were looking to be able to escape after.” _ She offered before bowing a little to him.

“She would really let someone kill her own father?” Byleth asked with a frown that matched his fathers. 

“No.” Claude sighed when he saw the look on her face as she turned away from him. “It’s a gamble.”

“A scheme.” Byleth nodded with understanding, having been used to dealing with Claude’s elaborate games of chess before. 

_ “Did you mean what you said before?” _ He called out to her, forcing her to stop in her steps. Claude was sure that her smirk at the success of her gamble matched his own..  _ “To your brother. About the Almyrans.”  _ He clarified when she didn’t speak. She turned and cocked her hip to the side, hand resting loosely on it with a devilish smirk painting her face. 

_ “I suppose you’ll have to get to know me better to find out _ .” She countered. Seeing such blatant flirting from the two, knowing that their affections only become more physical and showy made Claude blush in embarrassment at the scene. “ _ The fireworks will be starting soon. I know the best spot in the city to watch them. If you were a gentleman you’d offer to escort a damsel such as myself to them.” _ “ Claude couldn’t help but laugh with Byleth at how blatantly  _ Hilda _ she sounded as she spoke.

_ “Something tells me you can handle yourself just fine.” _ His father smirked, shaking his head at the incredulousness of the situation.  _ “If that dagger strapped to your thigh is any indication.”  _ It was his turn to smile in victory at the surprised look on her face.

She tried to counter, but the tips of her ears were red as she flushed. “I’m afraid I do have one requirement in order to avoid me pulling this dagger on you now.” His father smirked, running a hand through his long black hair. “Your name.” Claude and his father faltered just a little at her request. Byleth didn’t know much about politics to begin with in her own country, let alone neighboring Almyra. But would she recognize his father’s name? Would she know anything about the royal family at all?

He walked up to her, eyes warm to ensure her of her safety even as he towered over her. With a charming flash of pearly white teeth, he lowered himself onto his knee and gently grabbed Tiana’s hand, pressing it up to his lips. Claude was uncomfortable with the amount of eye contact they were making but his mother sure as hell didn’t seem to mind. 

_ “Lady Tiana, my name is Ehsaan.” _ To his credit, she smiled as a charming blush painted her cheeks. “ _ You don’t seem the type to enjoy all of this noble Fodlanese pageantry, but would you allow me to escort you?” _

_ “Eh-saan.” _ She repeated carefully. “ _ Did I say that right?”  _ Smiling when his father nodded, his face absolutely glowing as the name came from her lips. 

“You speak it as though you were the one the stars designed it for.”

Claude couldn’t resist the groan as the scene before them faded away.

“Stop, that was actually adorable.” Byleth teased, turning in his arms to wrap her own around his torso. She was being so affectionate it made his head spin but he didn’t question it, who knew if he’d ever have the chance to really hold her for some time. When he looked down at her, he noticed that he had gotten taller than the last time they were this close. That realization tugged on his heart like an old worn instrument because she was still exactly the same as the day she disappeared over the cliffs. 

“I don’t really know why we’re here watching my parents flirt. If I wanted to see that I could just go back home.” The words seemed sour both in his throat and in the air around them. Byleth and him both know going home was an option, but there was nothing  _ just  _ about it. No easy way to back down and give up everything he’s worked for. No way to do so without losing his pride and ambitions. No way to go back without feeling like he’s betrayed all of the people he’s met.

“So they still lay it on pretty thick with each other, huh?” Byleth chose to tease instead of comfort, which surprisingly made him feel better.

He shouldn’t be surprised.

She always knew how to handle him.

Thankful for the out she was giving him, he groaned dramatically, letting his head lull back. “Oh it’s downright filthy.  _ Sylvain _ levels of depraved.” His dramatics earned him a laugh and Claude’s heart already felt lighter. “The worst is when they’re fighting.”

He could  _ hear  _ the silent question in her shift against him and he realized how it must have sounded. “My parents are renowned for their heated debates. My mom is fiercely passionate and my father is incredibly stubborn, so by the time they reach any semblance of an agreement, they look about ready to tear each other’s clothes off then and there.” Despite the shudder at the memories of his parents  _ gross _ display of affections, he still can’t help but smile just a little. Claude has known from day one what being loved looked like. He never needed to search for it, only needed to look at the other end of the table where his parents were toasting their wine glasses, arms interlocked. 

“Fiercely passionate and incredibly stubborn, hm?” He looked down at her, who rested her chin on his chest to gaze up at him with a gleam in her eyes. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Claude’s response dies on his tongue when a loud buzz of voices causes them both to jump back. Like a flame illuminated in a dark room, suddenly they were embracing in the middle of a crowded street, nameless faces moving around them. It takes Claude a second to recognize the marketplace, still a little disoriented from the sudden shift to a busy daytime vision and from the look Byleth had just been giving him..

“I don’t think I recognize here either.” He looked down where Byleth was scanning the surroundings, lips pouting just a little. He snapped his head to look around, unwilling to get caught up on the intricate details of her mouth and his blood turned to ice in his veins. He knew the marketplace well, of course. After all, he spent countless days in it both hanging on the sleeve of his mother and later sneaking around for a chance at some adventure away from the palace. The streets were all lined with pop-up stalls all selling a variety of goods or offering services. The bright Almyran sun was beating down at its highest point of the day. “But you do.” Byleth’s voice, as always, brings him back to the present. And when he looks at her, he’s sure the panic on his face is evident.

He isn’t ready for this. Isn’t ready for her to know that he is definitely Almyran. 

He’s 100% sure she already knows, but is also sure that she would never force him to tell her. “ _ You have your reasons.”  _ She had told him once. He was so caught off guard that he almost spun her around and told her every secret of his origin.

But to not have that chance to tell her himself? To have that choice taken away from him?

He felt nauseous. 

“Whenever you’re ready to tell me.” Her hand was cupping his face gently, forcing him to see the understanding in her once stoic eyes. “She wouldn’t force me to know something you didn’t want me to know.”

_ She? _

He gazed up at the oceanic sky and frowned. The trickster gods who were up there might play his feelings like a fiddle in such a way.

But Fodlan’s goddess? Maybe not.

He didn’t have too long to stress about it however, because loud music was drawing the attention of passersby close to where they were standing. The music was comfortingly familiar, even if it had been years since he’d heard it in person. A sneaking suspicion propelled him forward, tugging Byleth with him to make their way to the front of the crowd.

Standing in front of him were three women, all dressed as traditional Almyran dancers. Their hair was pinned up in jewels, tops cropped with intricately embroidered silk. Half of their faces were covered with a veil of lightweight fabric, but embroidered as well with gold leaf. Expensive gold and silver chains were resting on their bare hips, dipping  _ just  _ close enough to the hem of their silk pants, which were bellowing slightly from the movements. And though you couldn’t see their whole face, his mother’s signature green eyes were a dead giveaway front and center of the group.

That and the groups obvious porcelain complexion reveals to anyone watching that they aren’t native. 

“And I thought our dancer’s regalia was a tad revealing.” Byleth was looking in amazement at the dancers as they moved, a combination of classical Fodlanese and Almyran moves to create a harmonic routine. 

“Hey the amount of leg those regalia reveal can be just as scandalizing.” Claude countered, almost jealous at the way she was mesmerized by the dancers. “Dorothea had everyone flustered the first few battles she wore them.” At that, Byleth laughed and looked back to him with a smile, making him smile back in victory.

His victory was short lived, because when he blinked, Byleth was suddenly wearing the dancer regalia before him. Despite there being so much more fabric in comparison to his home land's style, it  _ felt  _ incredibly revealing. It was taught around her large chest, which unbound as it normally was for fighting, seems to rise and fall painfully exaggerated with her breathing. The strips hang from her wrists, give Claude such inappropriate thoughts for their uses that he digs his nail into his palm, in hopes to keep any part of his dignity. And her legs--gods damn it all those  _ legs. _ Creamy porcelain beneath the flow of fabric, scars ebbing a beautiful pattern that he wants to memorize. Catching his obvious staring she looks down at herself and blushes for a moment at the outfit change.

“I thought Sylvain was going to be burned alive when she first danced for him on the field.” Claude just nodded dumbly at her attempt to return to their previous conversation..

That day, Sylvain swore to the entire army that he would do anything in his power to get Dorothea to fall in love with him. He started rejecting dates, started bringing her flowers each morning that she promptly left around the monastery as decoration, and devoted himself to learning how to be an efficient adjunct for her fight style almost exclusively. 

“He passed into a Dark Knight which such flying colors, Seteth made him take it again in an empty room proctored by himself to believe it.” Claude laughed loudly, imagining a bug-eyed Seteth watching Sylvain absolutely ace the master class exam.

“Never underestimate the lengths a man will go through for the woman of his dreams.” He reminded her, looking away when her smile turned into a devilish smirk again. “My mother won the Heron Cup during her time at the Officer Academy.” He all but sputtered out, in hopes of avoiding whatever flirting blow she was about to hit him with. He could tell just by her eyes that it would’ve been absolutely  _ killer _ .

“Really?” She perked up, her attack on Claude successfully avoided. 

“Yeah, made a real show of it to spite her professor.” He smiled at the memory of his mother telling him what to expect during his little sabbatical at Garreg Mach. “She sort of insinuated that despite being an attractive woman, that my mother didn’t have the ‘feminine touch’ needed to win the competition.” Byleth’s jaw dropped as she studied Tiana, not comprehending how anything about her could  _ not _ be considered feminine enough. “She’s sort of fueled by spite. Runs in the family, I guess. Luckily I never got that gene.” Claude winked at her. But when he looks back to the dancers, he sees a new face among them, moving with some kind of instinctual understanding of the moves. He knows he looks like a dead fish staring at her the way he is, but he can’t help it. To see Byleth dressed like that, something he’d only imagined in his wildest, most specific fantasies, and dancing in his native land was making him feel more religious than he’d ever felt.

_ Thank you, Sothis. _

He can only think as he watches the way she moves her hips in sync with his mother and the other dancers.

The music crescendos suddenly and the moves become even more involved, hips bouncing, torso rolling, arms twisting more until the music concludes with a loud bang of the drums, the dancers breathing heavily from the intense moveset. The audience erupts into applause and even despite not being able to see her mouth, Claude can tell by his mother’s eyes that she is smiling. 

“I guess I know why we’re here.” Claude looked back to Byleth for a moment before following her gaze to where she and Tiana were looking in the crowd. Like ink in water, the figures of the audience disappeared, leaving only the hulking figure of his father watching awestruck from the back. He was in his royal regalia, having already earned the title of Barbarossa, his facial hair was neat and faded perfectly and his skin glowing under the hot sun. He looked much different here, pampered from the palace than he did in the dark of the Derdriu’s night, with hate and violence on his mind. He was blinking dumbly at Tiana, his bright red eyes seemed to be on fire.

Claude could hear faint echoes of the audience that had actually been here, calling his mother oversexualized terms and the occasional racial slur among others, but none of that mattered as his parents stared at one another. As though they weren’t on a busy street surrounded by people. A new song started up, one that Claude blushed upon hearing. A song for couples, for lovers. An intimate tango of bodies moving against each other like the tide. 

Tiana walked through the crowd and offered her hand to his father, who took it dumbly. He was about to avert his eyes regardless, unwilling to watch his parents get hot and bothered so publicly, but when he turned Byleth had her hand extended the same way to him. Later in life, when he’s conscious, he’ll remember to apologize to his father for teasing him about the dumb look he gets on his face when his mom reaches for him, because when Byleth does the same his mind goes blank and fills with visions of seafoam eyes and the smallest smile. 

Claude pulls her close, as the song dictates, and the two begin to dance as though long time performers reunited. Though an intimate song, it is still fast paced with striking moves on beats of drums. He spins Byleth easily away from him before tugging her close. She crashes against him with her hand resting on his chest, leg hiked up on his side that he catches easily. Claude almost feels dizzy at the way her skin feels beneath his fingers and he both thanks and curses the universe for not letting them be together right now. He dips her low, her neck tilting back in trust that he would hold her. He rights them up and presses her close against him once more as they dance, his fingers splayed over her lower back, their hands tangled together high above them. With featherlight care, he drags his hand down her arm and attempts to commit every sensation of her to memory. 

He wants to read in to the way she shivers as his fingers leave trails down her body or the eruption of goosebumps he notices on her arm, but he doesn't have the strength to question it right now. 

If this is a cruel dream, then he'll take whatever he can get. 

He could've been dancing with her forever but too quickly the song hit its crescendo and Claude found himself dipping her again, hand wrapped around her thigh that was squeezing his hip bone tight and his other cradling her weight under her neck. 

They stare at each for a long moment, breathing heavily as though in the thick of a battle, and words die on Claude's throat when he sees the red blush paint her cheeks as her eyes flick down for the briefest of seconds. They both flinch at the roar of an audience but Claude, proudly, does not drop Byleth. Instead pulls them upright, hand finding his way into hers almost instinctually.

They look over to where the sounds of the audience are cheering for his parents, his father still holding Tiana in a low dip. It was like staring into an embarrassing mirror, knowing for a fact he just had the same dumbfounded look on his own face. 

Tiana excused herself from the other dancers, who nudged her encouragingly as she made her way back behind the stall of the musicians who had played for them. 

Suddenly, Byleth and Claude were in the small room as well as she anxiously took off her veil and twisted it nervously in her hands. It was a sight Claude almost didn’t recognize. He’d never known his mother to be nervous about much of anything. 

Tiana paced for a moment before the door opened and Ehsaan came barrelling in, making the already crowded room seem smaller. They stared at each other for a long moment as though not believing what they were seeing. 

The quiet seems to claw at Tiana’s nerves, who nervously tugs at one of the chains hanging on her hips. _ “I hope you’re not mad at me. I know you said it was risky--” _

“ _ Impossible _ .” Ehsaan corrects her, his voice sounded as though he’d been without water for days. “ _ I said it was impossible.” _ He clarified, his eyes still raking over her, as though trying to memorize the sight for the rest of his life. Desperate for her to be real. Desperate for her to really be looking at him that way.

He’d never felt more like his father’s son than in that moment.

_ “I had some free time after I graduated.”  _ She offered ratherly awkwardly, still nervously rolling the chain in her fingers.  _ “I hope you aren’t mad.” _

_ “Mad?” _ His father repeats dumbly.

_ “Well you told me it would be too dangerous.” _ She clarified, taking a deep breath to hold his eye contact in her emerald depths.  _ “But I wanted to see you. Maybe it's different here, but where I'm from when you write to a girl that you want to spend the rest of your life with her, she tends to want to see that come to light.” _

His father’s head shakes like the words weren’t real. 

“ _ I’m not mad. _ ” He almost shouts at her, so abrupt that his mother freezes her fidgeting.  _ “Tiana, how could I be mad at you for  _ this _?” _

Tiana huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.  _ “Then you’d better actually say something, Ehsaan! I can’t read your eyes.” _ Hearing his name seems to break something in his father and faster than he thought possible, Ehsaan is crossing the distance in the small room, hand burying in the back of her hair so he can tilt her head back and kiss her with such passion that Claude doesn’t even feel any secondhand embarrassment at the sight. It’s a surprisingly chaste kiss despite that, to which Claude is grateful. Ehsaan pulls back but doesn’t release his grip on her, searching her eyes for answers to questions he can’t quite form. 

“ _ That’s better _ .” She smiles breathlessly.

_ “I hope you know that you’ve made a terrible mistake.” _ Tiana’s eyebrows skyrocket with an incredulous rage.  _ “Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Now that you’re here… _ ” He trails off, pressing a softer kiss to her lips once.  _ “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go again.” _

Tiana’s rage is replaced with a gentler emotion as she wraps her arms around him and presses her head against his chest. Her eyes flutter close as she inhales the scent and feel of him when he envelops her, his lips pressed to the top of her hair, his eyes glistening from tears. 

_ “Then don’t let me go. And you can spend the rest of your life making it up to me.”  _

The scene in front of them fades and when Claude turns back to Byleth, he is surprised to see a tear slipping down her cheek. He reaches forward to catch it for her and the contact brings her back to the present. He understands it, of course. Even though there’s so much he’ll never know about how his parents got together, he’s sure that they may have one of the greatest love stories ever told. 

“Sorry--” She said when she realized she’d been crying. She attempted to wipe the rest off of her face even though Claude knew it was only the one tear. “That was just...sweet.” She decides on, frowning at how  _ not enough _ that seems to cover it.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for your emotions with me, Teach.” her smile warms him to his core. He wonders if his time with her is coming to an end and it makes heart pound loudly against his ribs. There's just never enough fucking  _ time.  _

Another blink and he finds them in a large bedroom fit for royalty. Almyran silks adorn the bed and ornate architecture encases the room they find themselves standing in. 

His parents room. 

He turns to Byleth, confused, but follows her gaze instead to the large double glass doors that lead out onto the balcony.

A child wearing dirt covered casual clothing and hair a mess, thrown up haphazardly and held out of his eyes by a colorful silk headband is peeking through the windows. His tan skin and bright green eyes give him away and Byleth giggles at his side. 

"You were downright  _ cute _ as a baby, Riegan." She teases, nudging him with her elbow, seemingly craving his touch as much as he is craving hers. 

"I'll ignore the hurt of you thinking I could possibly be anything but." He winks back at her, turning as his mother manifests into the scene. She doesn't look like she's aged a day, despite a rough pregnancy and years of political games to uphold her position as the "Imposter Queen" . 

_ " My star, what are you doing here? " _ She tries to scold, but the glint in her eyes is as prominent as his own. 

_ "I wanted to show you how good I am at climbing, mama."  _ For what reason, he doesn't know, but Claude finds himself once again thankful that this spell they find themselves under does not reveal  _ all _ of his secrets, and that the scene is translating into Fodlanese, rather than Almyran. 

_ " And look how high you got! And without a guard alerted in the slightest."  _ Tiana praises, rustling his hair just as a polite knock echoes in the room. She smiles at him and pulls the tapestries to hide him, pressing her finger to her lip to signal him to stay quiet. His younger self nods and smiles a wolfish thing at the game. 

_ "How are you feeling, Lady Tiana?"  _ Claudes heart catches in his throat at the sight of Reem carrying a large hamper of laundered clothing into the room. Reem is a familiar sight, with her ruby eyes and tightly braided black hair, always neat and orderly away from her face, which has been weathered by years of servitude and deep crows feet and wrinkles from her stern expression that she was rarely without. 

Reem is familiar, but unwelcome.

" _ My fever hasn't risen for several hours, so I was able to get some actual work done today."  _ His mother was prone to fevers in Almyra, something they attributed to the change in climate, foliage, and contact with unfamiliar diseases; but Claude knew better now. 

Knew well enough to shudder as his mother took a the sealed kettle from atop the laundry to begin pouring a cup of her favorite blend of teas. 

A blend specially made each morning by Reem herself. 

_ "That little bird of yours is being a menace to the tutors again today."  _ Reem says with a smile as she begins to fold the laundry on the bed for Tiana. 

_ "Is that so?"  _ Tiana glances at the double door with a knowing smirk. 

_ "Managed to convince them that a good leader demands authority even in the shadows. That he wanted to work on his nonverbal presence among his people."  _ Reem's tone was mocking, but not malicious as she spoke of the young prince. 

" _ Meaning what exactly?"  _ Tiana asked with a furrowed glare. 

_ "That your son schemed the courts highest tutors into a rousing game of hide and seek. Now the whole lot of the house is distracted searching for him. "  _ Both women laugh loudly at his antics, Reem sparing a worried glance when Tiana coughed heavily between sips of her tea, adding another scoop of honey to sweeten the bitter leaves. 

_ To sweeten the poison.  _ Claude thought bitterly. 

_ " He'll give these politicians a run for their money, that's for certain."  _ Tiana agrees with a softer smile, one reserved for the fondness she feels for her only son but that is painted with worry at the hardships only just beginning for him. She turns to one of the dressers." _ I think I shall take my lunch in the garden with my son today, Reem. Being cooped up inside is no good for the fever when there's a beautiful sun out there waiting."  _ As she speaks, rifling through her clothes for something to wear in the palace that day, Reem walks up behind her cautiously, but purposely. Claude recognizes the fire that has suddenly overtaken her red eyes that were once gentle for the young couple of the house and their child. 

"Turn around…" Claude whispers desperately as Tiana stays unaware of the threat looming behind her. 

Years in Almyra had not dulled the bow knight's senses, even if she let her guard down among her staff. And luckily, the sound of the switchblade from its sheath is relatively familiar no matter where you are in the world. 

Tiana dodges to the left just as Reem lunges forward with the knife and Tiana is quick to put space between them, even as Reem's frenzied stabs attempt to reach at her. 

" _ What are you doing?"  _ Tiana sneers as she smacks her arm out of the way, attempting to disarm her. Reem throws a punch with her free arm that lands in Tina's ribs, making her gasp.

" _ Don't act surprised, Lady Tiana. It will only make this worse."  _ Her words are harsher than they've ever sounded to Claude and he shudders at the memory as Tiana holds her arms and knees her in the gut, kicking her back to get that necessary space between them again. Her hand lifts and she attempts to summon a form of magic but the sigil burns in front of her face instead; a result of the poison she'd been ingesting each morning. 

" _ I trusted you."  _ Tiana snarls whe she realizes her reserves are depleted. " _ I let you hold my child."  _ She lunges at Reem, fueled by emotion instead of tactical thought and attempts to tackle her to the ground. They grapple, Reem surprisingly able to keep her own against a seasoned fighter. 

Or maybe it was unsurprising, considering how little they apparently knew about the lady in waiting. 

Reem lands a well timed punch to Tiana's jaw, rattling her enough that she can roll them over and land another to the side of her face. 

_ "I should've taken care of him years ago. Then the rebels would have only needed to focus on you."  _ Reem spits on Tiana with disgust as she continues to land hit after hit against her, her face well swollen and bleeding. Reem's own emotion is her own downfall, taking too much time to end Tiana and rather decides to draw out plunging the dagger into her side, making her cry out from the shallow wound,  _ "But you managed to deceive everyone with your traitorous witchcraft. Slowly, people started to listen to the words of a Fodlan whore over their own people."  _ Another shallow stab in her side, just enough to avoid the vital organs, but enough to achieve maximum pain. " _ But you couldn't turn all of us, could you?"  _ Reem teases, leaning close to whisper in Tiana's ear. 

_ "Those of us see what you really are. See the way you display your porcelain skin to distract us, to tempt us, to make us weak so you can slowly eliminate us. That's your plan, isn't it? To wait until you've make us feel safe in your embrace and then bring an army of pale faced fighters to kill us,"  _ She pauses to twist the knife in her side with a wet kiss against her ear, tugging on the lobe sharply." _ to enslave us,"  _ a wet tongue drags down her jawline, Tiana struggling to break free of her hold. " _ to rape us."  _ Her free hand wraps around Tiana's neck, jerking her bloodied head back onto the hard ground, her eyes bulging from the pressure. 

" _ You're...wrong."  _ Tiana manages to choke, struggling to get her arms free to claw at the tightened hand cutting off our airflow. 

_ "Perhaps."  _ Reem hums noncommittal but shrugs. " _ But we can't take that risk. The great generation before would never have tolerated an imposter like you in such a position. And once we take the little one's light away, then Ehsaan will have no choice but to return to the ideals of our people." _

Claude looks away for the first time in disgust, his heartbeat is loud in his ears and also thrashing in his chest and also weighted in his lungs. His thoughts are running rampart and he can't make sense of the scene in front of him again, so he does what he always does when it all doesn't make sense. 

He looks to her. 

But she is not watching the scene on the floor. Instead, her gaze is focused on teary green eyes watching through the doors, panic cresting in him to that most important choice a child can make. 

Fight or flight. 

And with his mother bleeding on the floor under the weight of a woman who coddled and cared for him, Claude chooses to fight to protect his mother. Claude knew even then, the benefit of a scheme as a means of an offensive. 

He pulls a beaten up slingshot and carefully, quietly, opens the door enough to aim a shot past Reem's head, shattering a vase on the dresser instead. She flinches upright to look at at the noise. 

The distraction is everything for Tiana, who is able to seize the opportunity to roll them over, and Tiana does not hesitate, wailing hit after hit against Reem. Her legs kick wildly to disrupt Tiana's foundation enough so that she can pull her arm free from underneath and attempt to plunge the dagger deep within her. It take all of Tiana's strength to hold her hand at bay, the tip of the blade grazing and dancing along her abdomen. 

Claude does not look away as his younger self comes barroling into the room, grabs a piece of shattered glass and presses it carelessly into Reem's neck. Reem' s attempts at last words are drowned by her own blood flooding her windpipe, spurts shooting onto everything around them. 

Hardened ruby eyes lock with Claudes emeralds and the disgust as the life fades away will haunt that young child for years to come.

There is a moment after the blood stops gushing and the gasps echo in silence where no one moves. And then all at once the reality sinks int o Claude as he scrambles away from Reem's body, a desperate slew of unintelligble words and curses emptying from him. He turns away just in time to empty his stomach's contents on the plush rug, a choked scream coming from him. 

A warmth brings him away from the scene to look where Byleth is squeezing his hand so tightly he wonders if the contact is for his benefit or her own. But for the first time, Claude can't stand to look at her, embarrassed and mortified at the scene that played out before them. 

Tiana climbs off of Reem once she's sure the threat is disposed of and pulls a trunk from under the bed, arming herself with her decorated bow and a quiver of silver arrows. She barely is to her feet when frantic knocks echo in the room. 

" _ My lady? Are you alright?"  _ The knob jiggles and Tiana is almost relieved to know that Reem had the sense to lock the door before her attempted murder. 

" _ Do not come in here."  _ The authority in her voice makes both the knocking and young Claude's tears stop. " _ I am Lady Tiana of the Alliance. This is my one and only courtesy that any man, woman, or child who attempts to enter this room will be met with a swift end. I demand to speak to my husband and not another soul until then."  _

There is a rustle and small commotion on the other end. 

"  _ My lady, please, if you are injured we have healers being brought up as we speak."  _ The door knob is jostled again and Tiana lets out a huff, marching to the balcony doors, swinging them open and firing a charged curved shot arrow into the open. Somehow she forces magic from her depleted reserves, probably from not finishing her morning tea, and surrounds the arrow, redirecting it sharply and launching in through the window of the hallway outside her quarters. Glass shatters and the thud of it impaling the wall just outside the door is the only sound for a beat. 

" _ I will not miss next time."  _ The threat itself is empty, as Claude is sure it'd be impossible to manage that type of shot again with the way her abdomen is bleeding out.  _ "Come, my star, quickly."  _ Tiana gestures the young Claude to her and sets him behind her in the far corner of the room as she sets up on a stool in front of him, bow pulled taught and trained on the door. 

" _ Mama, Reem…"  _ A young Claude tries desperately to make sense of the violence against his family, and Claude wishes he could offer him the small but empty comfort that it will never make sense. 

Tiana shushes him gently. " _ I'm sorry, my love. I let her get too close. I won't let that happen again."  _ It is a solemn vow to him as much as herself. Young Claude attempts to hold her wounds together, to keep the blood inside, even going so far as to attempt to form a heal sigil of light magic, far outside of his own prowess. 

Byleth walks to them and crouches, no longer held back by an invisible restraint, and presses her fingers against young Claude's hand, whose own sigil burns to life and some of the skin of Tiana patching together. 

Claude has no time to process how on earth Byleth is able to help his past self before the door is smashed open. Tiana fires a shot that whizzes past Byleth's and sticks out of the door frame where a careless person would have been standing. 

But his father is used to his mother by now. 

" _ My love, it's me."  _ Ehsaan's voice is enough for Tiana to crumple over in agony, the bow slipping from her shaking hands and clattering on the floor. Claudes father enters swiftly at the sound, closing the door behind him. He spares a look at Reem's lifeless body on the floor as he rushes to Tiana's side. " _ It's okay, you're safe now." _ He attempts to comfort, his hands radiating a soothing white magic. 

_ "How do you know that? What if there are others here; they want to end me and our son, Ehsaan."  _ Tiana chokes out as the panic of the situation finally seems to hit her. 

" _ I will sever a thousand heads that mean you harm before I allow anything to happen to either of you. You are my world, Ti. I am just the humble man who is blessed to live among you."  _ His father, though perhaps one of the scariest indivudals in a fight, certainly knows how to color his words.  _ "Was there poison?"  _ Ehsaan asks, turning to young Claude, who has been standing there with his mother's blood dripping off his hands. when he doesn't answer right away, Ehsaan snaps one of his fingers in front of his face to get his attention.  _ "This is a moment, kid. A moment where you have to push your own agony away for your future self to deal with. I'm sorry to ask that of you, but please, was there poison?"  _

Young Claude takes a deep breath to settle the pounding of his heart and the tremors in his spine to focus on the task at hand. 

"  _ The blade was covered in blood when it came out. If the tip was dipped in poison, it would likely repel the blood and keep the tip clear." _ His extracurricular interest certainly came in hand.  _ "Mama's magic is empty and I would bet that the tea Reem brings her every morning is the reason. I think it's why she's been having fevers too." _

Finding his answer satisfactory, Ehsaan turns back to Tiana and pulses the white magic stronger to seal her wounds shut, now that the threat of poison could most likely be eliminated. When the bleeding stops, Young Claude can no longer hold it in as he rushes to his parents and sobs against his mother's legs. Ehsaan wraps his large arms around them, cradling them to feel how alive they are. 

"I'm so sorry." Byleth's voice surprises him as the scene fades. Not that he forgot she was there, but he can't recall a time when she sounded so absolutely destroyed. 

_ Other than the day she lost her father.  _

"Don't be. I told you before, I'm not a stranger to attempts on my life" His words come out bitter against his will, but his blood is boiling with a white hot rage he can't simmer. She frowns at him. 

"You don't have to put on your mask with me, Claude." She reminds him, only fueling the bubble in his blood. '

"And why not? What does it matter how I feel in this hellscape; none of this is real." He spits bitterly, only a little aware of the world around them shaking with a deep rumble. 

"I'm real." She offers with a deep seated frown, her eyebrows furrowed like her father's. 

"Is that what you think? Then where are you, Teach? It's been 4 years since you went off that cliff while I've been here fighting a war you said you'd fight with me--with us." His words are laced with venom and somewhere deep in his heart he is begging himself to stop; that what he is doing to Byleth isn't fair. That he is speaking out of hurt and embarrassment and agony and loneliness. 

The world around them shifts, back to a dark Derdriu night, but they are only looking at each other. 

"I don't know." She hisses through clenched teeth. "But I know I'm real, I know I'm here. I know when I touch you that I  _ feel _ it; so I'm sorry I don't have yet another answer to your endless questions." 

The scene around them shifts with speed, as though they are running through the dark alleys, even though they are standing completely still--stubbornly holding their ground against the other. 

" What a surprise, you don't have an answer for me. You're just content being this giant mystery then? Don't you  _ want _ to know anything? Or, I'm sorry, must be hard to want answers when you don't  _ want  _ anything." It's a low blow, Claude knows how insecure she is about the difficult she has feeling and expressing her emotions. She had told him in confidence and here he was throwing that ammunition in her face as he would any pawn he intended to use in his political games. 

She stares blankly at him, as stoic and unflinching as she had the day they met. If it wasn't for the tension in her jaw, he would have no indication that she had even heard him. 

"I wanted to see you. You are the only thing that makes sense in the darkness here." Her words carve him inside, just how much is she 'conscious' in this spellbound plane?

"You cut a hole in the darkness once, why not do it again if you want to see me so bad?" His words are a malicious tone of teasing and it makes her flinch. 

" _ Please stop! I'll give you anything you want!"  _ They turn away from each other to see that the rushing of the city streets has halted and they share standing above a burning carriage, a man pressed against the brick with a dagger to his throat. 

Claude'd blood turns to ice. 

The hooded figure holding the knife against a much older Godfrey has his back to them, but Claude knows that doesn't matter. And this secret, his shameful act of vengeance for assassination attempts on him and his mother, pushes Claude over the edge. 

"Stop this!" Claude shouts up the empty sky. "You've take everything from me." His voice breaks with angry sobs. "Just make this stop, I don't want to be here."

There is a mumble from the hooded figure, purposely garbled so that it is impossible to understand, but Claude sees the way Godfrey's eyes flicker with recognition at his assailant. 

Claude can't breathe, his blood is ice, his hands are shaking, his brain is screaming, and his heart is thrashing. 

"Enough." Byleth's calm voice breaks through his panic, as it usually does. The scene before them disappears in a blink and he sees Byleth in a pitch black void, eyes closed while she holds her arms out. 

"So this is a joke to you." Claude can imagine the way she is mocking him, even if the rational part of him is screaming to stop. "At any point you could've just stopped this, but you chose to put me through that hell, and for what? So you could get answers to your questions? I may be a snake sometimes, Teach, but at least I stick to practical methods to get what I want."

She slowly opens her eyes, the bright glow of them dimming from whatever power she was just using. Claude can't stop the rush at seeing her eyes again. 

" Well congratulations, you know more about my life than I'd ever want to tell  _ you _ . " The wording itself is probably a double edged sword, because his gut feels impaled. "Payback for wanting you and the Sword of the Creator on my side, hm? Well, you win. Message received. I'll win this war without you, I'll show you--- I'll show everybody that I am not a fluke. That I am better with or without you. That I don't need  _ you." _

His words echo in the void and immediately Claude wants to take them all back. To apologize, to say he was lying. But a vice holds his words inside, a punishment for the things he spoke into existence. 

Byleth stares at him, eyes wet with tears and chest heaving in her dancer regalia. She takes one step back, then another… 

And then she's gone and Claude is alone in the black void. Nothing above or below or around, just his skin burning with the regret of his behavior. 

Claude collapses hard onto his knees with a sob that racks through his body before the tears and wails flow freely. He screams loudly but there is no reply, no comfort, nothing but silence. 

Whether it is a punishment or a blessing from the goddess, he is left in the void to weep until there is nothing left inside of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllo you amazing, kind, and wonderful people.  
> I'd like to apologize from the bottom of my heart for the delay in this story, it was always supposed to be a quick updated thing since I had the majority of it written. 
> 
> But a while back I was fortunate to start a full time job amidst the pandemic and it has taken every ounce of time and energy. On top of that and little to no quiet time to write, my computer hard drive took ahort walk off a tall cliff and said goodbye to this world. 
> 
> The majority of my story was on that drive (Which is why, as always, I remind myself and other creators to use Google docs to avoid these disasters) 
> 
> Thank you for your reviews, your kudos, your views into this story. It is near and dear to my heart and I hope, truly truly, to get the last two chapters up as soon as possible.


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